


Angel in a Red Vest

by dontbefancy



Series: Angel in a Red Vest Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 101,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbefancy/pseuds/dontbefancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case of two men, two lives, and two stories and how combining them can change everything. Yeah, it’s a basic love story with a firefighter!Blaine twist…and maybe a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> When originally posted, I included a glossary of terms, but I'm not sure how necessary it is. Most importantly in the prologue you'll need to know this: C-DRT - Community Disaster Response Team, pronounced Sea-Dirt –a fictional non-profit organization of volunteers (based on a real life, internationally known organization) that services clients at the scene of a fire, flood, tornado or any natural disaster, assisting in their recovery by providing shelter, food and clothing, usually in financial form.

“Allen County C-DRT 1 has arrived at the scene.”

“Copy. Dispatch out.”

Kurt tossed the radio into its holder and peeked into the back of the truck, finding his very nervous volunteer, wide-eyed and white-knuckled. “You okay, Mandy? Maybe you should ride in the front on the way back.”

“No. No. I’m good. What do we do now?”

Kurt patted George’s shoulder, his burly, typically grumpy driver, and headed back to walk his new volunteer through her next steps. He opened the back door to swing out of the back of the truck, stopping dead as the sweltering heat smacked him in the face. The last few days had averaged over 100 degrees and there was no relief in sight – for Ohio? It was downright oppressive.

Swinging off of the running board, he somehow avoided landing in a mud puddle big enough to not only ruin his Burberry track pants, but an entire stack of them. “George, pull us up about 15 feet if you can and then set up the stairs, get the a/c cranking. I’ll be back.”

They had arrived at the scene of this particular fire near its conclusion, firemen pulling hoses back onto the engine, puddles littering the yard and of course, the standard charred belongings unceremoniously dumped into piles outside of blackened, broken windows. From the outset, this appeared to be a minor fire – a fact that Kurt would never share with his new clients. To them, it was the worst day of their life.

But, before finding clients, who hopefully were hidden away in air conditioned neighboring homes, he needed to find the chief to get a briefing. Unable to see him with a quick scan, he turned to the captain with a shrug. “Any ideas?”

“I think I saw him head around back.”

And that’s where he found him. A new _him_ to this town, the cranky, closed-minded redneck of a chief that preceded him finally retiring last month. In an unusual turn of events, they hired from outside of Lima. He’d been here only a few weeks and this was C-DRT’s first encounter with him. Unfortunately, this encounter had a twist as the chief was sitting in the middle of the back yard, turnout jacket, white helmet , and O 2 tank laying next to him as he slumped his head between his knees.

“Chief? You okay?”

The man didn’t move, but he was clear in his grunted response. “Heat sick. I can’t get up.”

“Okay, lemme get some water. Hang tight.”

Kurt jogged back toward his ERV looking around for a medic, finding none, which really made absolutely no sense. He grabbed a couple of ice cold bottles and, not wanting to waste time trying to figure out the holes in the system, made his way back to the chief. He squatted down in front of him and handed him an open bottle. “Hydrate.”

Looking up from droopy lids, the man grabbed the bottle and drank quickly, water spilling down the sides of his mouth to trail down his neck and soak the collar of his shirt. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, summoning a lazy, ash-stained smile. Kurt’s heart might have flipped in fourteen somersaults. Possibly fifteen. “Mmm. Look at you – an angel in a red vest. Thank you.”

Kurt fought the blush that crept up his cheeks and took hold of the Chief’s wrist to get a quick feel for his pulse. It was faint and slow and the chief’s head drooped forward again. “Chief? Where are your medics?”

“Yeah.” Chief took another swallow and capped the bottle. “Two resident injuries. Low man power.”

“Okay, let’s get you into some cool air.”

“No, no. I’m fine.” He tried to open the bottle again and failed, energy left only to swear and huff.

“No. You’re not.” Kurt hooked his hand under the Chief’s elbow and tugged. “Come on. Our truck is air conditioned. This heat isn’t safe even in the shade.”

The Chief sighed and caught Kurt’s determined gaze, grumbling as he relented and let him help him stand. “Not a great way to ingratiate myself to the crew, is it?”

“I take it you went in for rescue?” Kurt picked up the abandoned turncoat and helmet, keeping an eye on him as he walked, a ready hand when he wobbled.

“Yeah. Daughter was in there and Mom went back to find her. We got ‘em though.”

“Are they going to be okay?”

The Chief stopped and wavered, smiling faintly when Kurt offered him more water. “I think so. They just took them in for observation.”

Kurt finally got him to the back of the truck and slipped his hand around his shoulders to balance him. “Step up, Chief. George, need a pull here.”

George pulled, Chief hung on and Kurt pushed, all stumbling into the confined quarters of the truck while Mandy made a hasty dash out of the way.

“Oh god, it does feel good in here.”

“Good. Sit down here. George, Mandy, this is Chief um…” He looked down at the helmet in his hand. “…Anderson. Dealing with some heat exhaustion. Crank up the a/c a little more.”

Kurt flipped on small fans in the corners of their tight workspace, screwing his face up in concern as Chief Anderson leaned back against the truck wall looking even more ashen than before. “Chief…you need to get the rest of your bunker gear off.”

“Mmm-kay.” But he didn’t move.

“Shit.” Kurt curled his fingers in the chief’s suspenders and pushed back, hoping for some cooperation, getting little. “Shrug back…we need to get these off.”

He moved a little and Kurt pulled them down his shoulders, wondering if a firemen always smelled like smoke, if it dissipated into something more appealing or was always that sweet, distinctive _house fire_ smell.

“Keep drinking.”

“Mmm…drinking.” Chief looked at the bottle and laid his head back against the wall again.

Kurt unclipped the sides of his pants, pulling the front flap down to undo the Velcro strapping, chuckling as Mandy fidgeted nervously and turned her back. “Honey, he’s fully clothed under here, don’t worry. Get a cloth out of a comfort kit and wet it, please.”

“But, we’re not supposed to disassemble them. And we don’t have a sink.”

“Use bottled water. And we’ll replenish the kit.” Kurt offered the chief another sip of water before trying to get him to move again. “Stick with us here.”

Chief Anderson grunted and haphazardly grabbed at the bottle and took a shaky sip. “Thank you.” His eyes flickered open again and he sighed. “I am so embarrassed.”

“Don’t worry about it. And uh…lift your ass.”

“Huh?” Chief looked down and saw what Kurt was trying to do and lifted his hips letting Kurt pull his turnout trousers down, sighing as the cool air hit him, even through his street clothes. “Oh, that’s better.”

“Can I remove your boots? Cool feet will help.”

“Yeah, yeah…here, I’ll get them.” The chief bent down to loosen his boots before Kurt could stop him and swayed right into Kurt’s arms, sighing angrily as he flopped back against the wall. “Um. Maybe you’d better.”

“Good idea. You drink, I’ll disrobe.”

“Kurt!”

“Let it go, Mandy.” Kurt caught the chief’s eye as he chuckled behind another guzzle of water, focusing back on his job at hand, loosening his boots and pulling them off with a grunt. “Does that help?”

“A lot. Yes. You’re wonderful.”

“Just doing my job.” Kurt placed the cool, wet cloth on the back of Chief’s neck and took a seat across the small table, pulling out a file and beginning to fill out a form while keeping an eye on his unexpected client. As they sat in silence, Mandy fidgeting, George grumping his way back to the driver’s seat, Chief Anderson’s color slowly returned; his breathing becoming a bit stronger. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah, getting there.” The Chief rubbed the cold cloth across his neck and brow, opening it and covering his face with it as he rested his head against the wall. “I have _never_ done this before.”

“What? Fought a fire or wimped out?”

Chief pulled the cloth off his face and rolled his head to look at Kurt who was diligently filling out paperwork…with a smirk on his face. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.”

Kurt looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “No, I’m just lucky I found it so quickly.”

Chief dropped the wet cloth on top of Kurt’s pen and paperwork and reached out his hand. “Chief Blaine Anderson. I’ll try not to wimp out next time we meet.”

Kurt shook his hand and smiled. “Kurt Hummel. And I should hope not. My tax dollars don’t pay for that.”

Blaine leaned back and took a final swig of water and closed his eyes. “I can see this town is going to be interesting…”

“You have no idea…”


	2. Chapter One

“Family of five. Mom and daughter were transported, but released. I put them up at the hotel at 81 and 75 for three nights. Food, comfort kits, Dad had a few meds and we got those refilled. I’ll call on them after lunch.” Kurt pushed the folder of papers to his boss for her perusal.

“Did you meet the new chief?”

“I did. Blaine Anderson. Young for a chief; he’s my age. We had to treat him for heat exhaustion.”

“Where were the medics?”

“Taking the daughter and mom. He said man power was down – probably that damned failed levy in May.”

“Did you document it?”

“Yeah, it’s in there too. Just water, busted a comfort kit, kept him in the air for a bit. He was okay and off before most of his guys even noticed he was missing.”

“Good. No one else was down? The heat was _horrible_ Saturday.”

“No, just him and they packed it in after he was stable, so we just had the family.”

“How’d Mandy do?”

“Nervous. She’ll be okay eventually. Almost wet herself when I took the chief’s turnout trousers off.”

Dot laughed. “Sometimes I think we need to do one of our preschool fire classes for the volunteers. This, boys and girls, is a fire fighter’s uniform. Oh, and don’t hide from him. He’s here to protect you…”

“Might not be a bad idea. I guess the little girl was hiding Saturday. He had to have been hunting for her for awhile with how wiped he was.”

“How old is she?” Dot looked at the papers and nodded. “Three. Makes sense. How were the other kids?”

“Seemed okay from what I could tell. I let Mandy handle them. You know how I am.”

“Yes, yes. _I’ll do anything for you, Dot, just don’t make me have to deal with anyone under age 15._ I remember your stipulations very clearly.”

Kurt pursed his lips and sighed. “I ask for one thing and you mock me.”

“Who doesn’t like children?”

“Me. Their heads are too big for their bodies, they snot on everything and they talk like drunken monkeys.”

Dot shook her head and chucked the folder on her desk. “I’ll get these into chapter. You did a great job. Now, I have to get out of here. Need to schmooze for sponsors.”

Kurt settled back at his desk to tackle his to-do list, waving at Dot as she scurried out. He hadn’t been able to get the family or the fire out of his mind since Saturday – it happened after every fire. But, he also couldn’t get that new chief out of his mind.

_Angel in a red vest_ he’d said.

Sure, Kurt had been helping him out and was wearing the ever-so-stylish red and gray disaster vest when he did it. It could have been, for all intents and purposes, a truthful, observational statement from a guy who was probably 5ml of fluids away from passing out.

And yet.

And yet, Chief Blaine Anderson, with his thick, dark curls and caramel-colored eyes, his oh-god-fuck-me body, seriously his arms were too big for the sleeves of his shirt, and those lush lips…wrapped around that water bottle? Yeah, Chief Anderson had gotten under his skin.

And, after looking up to the sound of an opening door, Chief Anderson had also gotten into his office.

“Good morning. I thought a more formal introduction might be in order.”

***

“Well, hello Chief.” Kurt stood and reached out his hand hoping the hitch in his breath when the chief’s fingers touched his was only audible to himself.

“Sit down. I’m not _that_ formal.”

Kurt offered the seat across from his desk as he sat back down trying to clear his head in light speed. “It’s nice to see you with some color.”

“Yeah, let’s just pretend that never happened, shall we?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“There we go. Wiped off the records.” They shared a friendly smile and yes, Kurt kept that hitched breath to himself. Probably. The man’s smile lit up his eyes even more, glowing amber orbs. _Glowing amber orbs; I’m losing my mind. And now he’s talking._ “Seriously, though. Thank you. For helping. For your discretion. I was an idiot.”

“You had a PASS device. Why didn’t it activate?”

“I didn’t stop moving until I’d handed her off and sat down where you found me.” Chief shook his head at his own stupidity. “It really didn’t hit me until I was outside.”

“Well, I’m glad everybody’s okay.” Kurt stopped and measured his words carefully. “I think the bigger hazard is you not having extra medics there. I mean, we can do CPR and standard First Aid – we’re just not equipped for more serious cases.”

“Nor should you be. Which is partially why I’m here. Are you the director here in Allen County?”

“No. No, no, no. I’m just a volunteer-ish…sort of thing. She’s out at the moment but should be back before long.” Kurt sifted through his desk drawer and pulled out a business card, handing it across the desk. “Here. Dot Morgan. She’s hard to catch.”

“Thank you.” Chief took the card and as he settled back into his seat, staring but saying nothing, a softening of demeanor and expression washing over him.

“Is, um…is there something else I can do for you?”

“Yes.” A blush crept up Blaine’s face as he smiled, his eyes darting away from Kurt’s gaze and back again. “Kurt, I actually came by for another reason.”

“Oh?” Kurt tilted his head in question unable to hide his grin. Not only had Chief remembered his name, but the way he said it, as though it curled in his mouth like a ribbon of candy. _Kur…t._

“I was wondering…if you would like to join me for dinner one night this week.”

Their eyes locked and Kurt no longer had to worry about hiding the hitches in his breath. He completely forgot how to breathe. But, he found his voice, if not his ability to speak properly. “Sure. That would…yes. I’d…I’d like that.” _Smooth, Hummel._

“Good. I’ll um…I need a way to contact you?”

“Oh. That might help.”

They exchanged numbers, through their phones and Blaine pocketed his as he stood pausing in the frame of Kurt’s office door, another blush sweeping over his cheeks. “So. I’ll call soon?”

“That would be great. And, come back by. I know Dot wants to meet you.”

Blaine’s stance stiffened, zippering back up into Chief mode and he smiled tightly. “Will do.” He nodded and winked and disappeared out the door as swiftly as he’d come in.

And Kurt? Well, Kurt let out a whoosh of air, breathing properly for the first time in about ten minutes. “Oh. Mygod.”

He stared at his desk, the papers on it, his to-do list over and over again, not able to start on anything, irritated with his school boy behavior. _Really now. It’s a date. You have dates. You even have dates with handsome men. What IS your problem?_

And he couldn’t answer even himself; his face remaining heated and flushed until he finally pulled himself out and it and focused on his volunteer email list to announce an upcoming training.

And then the door opened again.

It was Blaine, rushed and unable to make eye contact.

“Hello again.”

“Yeah. Hi. So. I wimped out just like I promised I wouldn’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Look. I’m not normally this ridiculous, but um…” He stepped in all the way and leaned against the door frame, nervous and wide-eyed. “You entrance me, Kurt Hummel. What are you doing for lunch _today_?”

Kurt laughed. Hot and adorable was an amazing combination on any man and here it was, standing right in front of him. “I was just going to grab something up the road. Would you like to join me?”

“Yes. Please.”

“So, is this in addition to or instead of…?”

Blaine started to answer and stopped, measuring his words. “In addition? I just didn’t want to put it off and talk myself out of it.”

“Is that a habit of yours? Talking to yourself?”

“No. Yes? Probably.” Blaine blushed and stopped talking, looking away. He started and stopped two more times, finally giving up.

“Well.” Kurt looked down at his desk, collecting his thoughts that had scattered all over the place. “Shall I pick you up at the station?”

“No. My invitation; my ride.”

Kurt nodded and smiled. _He’s even adorably polite. I might die._ “Noon is fine.”

“I’ll…I’ll see you then.” Blaine grabbed for the door handle, missed, tried again and succeeded. “And, I won’t bother you again until then. Promise.”

“You’re most definitely not a bother.”

***

“… Farmer’s Bank and Kaval’s Print Shop on board. I just need to follow up with the laundro…” Dot’s words disappeared as she slipped into her office. Kurt had learned to just hang tight with Dot’s half conversations – if she said anything important, he would eventually get the meat of it.

Once she’d stopped rambling about fund raising sponsors, he peeked his head into her office. “Chief Anderson stopped by while you were out.”

“Oh, dammit. Will he be back?”

“Yeah, any minute now. He wanted to talk to you about being down a medic team? I’m not sure how that relates to us, but…”

“…can go to lunch. Get to know him. I’d like a better partnership with Lima City than we had with the last chief.”

“Well, he and I were going to…”

The door opened and Blaine came in. Kurt waved him further into the office and they shared a secret smile before the proper introductions. “Chief, this is Dot Morgan, our executive director.”

Kurt stepped out of the way as they greeted each other, Dot starting the conversation mid-thought as usual. “…thought we could do lunch. Does The Red Barn sound good?”

“Oh. Um…” Blaine shot a look to Kurt who offered an apologetic shrug.

“Dot, actually the chief and I were going to…”

“Excellent. Let’s head on out then, huh?” She grabbed her keys, grabbed Blaine by the elbow walked toward the door, leaving Kurt to stand in the middle of the hall.

Blaine glanced around behind him and mouthed _it’s okay_ with a smile sweet enough to soften steel _._ Kurt huffed and followed them out all the while calculating how to gracefully tell his 70+ year old boss that she was a first class cock block.

***

“…and we could combine forces, each volunteer organization helping the other, but not duplicating their efforts. The auxiliary team works well in Columbus and…”

Kurt nibbled on a kettle chip, watching these two together. Blaine was charming as hell and had Dot dancing the watoozie right in the palm of his hand. She might as well have been stripping and catching dollar bills in her thong.

Blaine was an idea man and a great listener. Even better, while the ideas had originally been his, the way he listened – his eye contact, his ability to ask questions that he clearly already knew the answers to – made his ideas hop right out of his mouth and into Dot’s virtual to-do list. It was genius, really.

They were discussing a program, a partnership really, where an auxiliary volunteer force with the fire department would work on aiding fire fighters – misting stations for summer, heaters in the winter, water, light meals if necessary and most importantly, stations to fill O2 tanks. C-DRT would continue with their client assistance, communicating with the fire departments as necessary. The partnership happened by sharing volunteers, bolstering each organization, stretching training opportunities for both organizations and keeping volunteers active, happy and eager because they would be utilized more often. The auxiliary, or Box 15, was successful in Columbus and adding the C-DRT partnership in the smaller town of Lima could expand resources of both. Win-win.

Dot was beaming, Blaine was charming and Kurt tried to keep up with their inexhaustible energy. It was refreshing to see a chief who was at the beginning of his career, raring to go, full of hope, innovation and with muscular, masculine arms that kept brushing up against Kurt’s as they reached into the chip basket.

“…don’t you agree, Kurt?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. I’m sure I do…or will. Eventually…”

Dot looked at him like he’d grown a second head and excused herself to use the restroom. Kurt traced the designs of the napkin lining the basket, feeling Blaine’s eyes on him. He finally looked over and all they could do was laugh.

“I am _so_ sorry, Blaine. She’s…”

“She’s fan _tas_ tic, are you kidding me?”

“Well, she is, but…”

“But nothing. I know this isn’t quite what I had in mind for lunch, but…”

“And you, Chief Anderson…” Kurt faked a feminine, heart-sick sigh. “….are so completely charming. It’s almost sick-making, really.”

“Hey now. I’m just doing my job.”

“Your job is schmoozing the old ladies in town?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes. And…you don’t think I’m being sincere?” Blaine popped a chip in his mouth and chewed, smiling around the crumbs.

“Oh for god’s…” Kurt shook his head at the contrast from the very sick, very wimpy man he’d met only 48 hours prior and now this…this impish, hot devil-man. “I’m still trying to figure you out. I have a feeling your sincerity and bullshit live very close to one another.”

“I’m offended.”

“The thing is…you’re not.”

“I thought you were still trying to figure me out.”

“I’m a quick study.”

Dot came back to the table and paid the bill as the men continued ribbing each other. “Well, Chief, this has been great. I can’t wait to move forward with some of this. We have a training coming up next week. We’d love to have you there. The team needs to meet you and you can talk about the opportunities with the auxiliary.”

“I’d be happy to. Just let me know when.”

Blah, blah, schmooze, blah, he was fucking perfect. Kurt wanted to throw up. And to kill Dot. And then kiss her for making their “date” a lot less stressful.

Once they got back to the office, Dot continued the conversation that had already begun in her head. Status quo, really. “…going out to see the fire clients this afternoon, Kurt?”

“Yes. Headed out there shortly.”

“Okay. Don’t forget to stop by the property to get a damage assessment first.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, and gentlemen…” Dot looked at both men pointedly. “Next time you two want to go on a personal lunch date, just _tell_ me. I do not like playing the role of awkward mother hen.”

She winked and turned on her heel to go inside leaving Kurt and Blaine to stand in the middle of the parking lot with their mouths hanging open.

Blaine cleared his throat and blushed. “And here I thought I was being super professional.”

“She’s a wizard. Sees the invisible.”

Blaine leaned against the side of his station truck and crossed his arms looking to Kurt with a shy smile. “Maybe it was the magical kettle chips.”

“Maybe. You _are_ awfully cute when you schmooze the old ladies.”

“Mmm…speaking of the boss,” Blaine pulled away from his truck and stood, a curtain of detachment and professionalism falling over his eyes. “…I haven’t cleared the property yet for you guys to enter.”

“How soon can that be done? We need to get in there so I can justify the aid we gave – non-profit bureaucracy and all that.”

“It was minor damage…I just haven’t checked the stability of that second floor yet.”

“I’m sure it is, but we use different levels of assessment than you do – I need to see it, if possible.”

Blaine sighed and squinted, calculating. “You headed there now?”

“After I gather the paperwork and our truck, yeah.”

“How about we ride together?”

“Sure…meet you at the station in about 15?”

Chief nodded and moved to get into his truck, but Kurt stopped him with a hand on his arm, trying to lift that curtain back up. “Thanks for being good to my boss. She’s a pain in the ass, but will do anything for you.”

Blaine put his hand on Kurt’s and squeezed, his eyes warming to a smile. “I’ll see you in a few.”


	3. Chapter Two

“So, what’s good here?” Blaine looked over the menu on the wall, pulling out a glasses case from his hip pocket and sliding on a pair of black-rims, about four years out of fashion and cuter than necessary.

“Everything? Just make sure you end it with a milkshake.”

“It’s a shake shack. It would be sacrilege not to have a milkshake.”

They placed their orders and sat by the window, the vinyl upholstered chairs scuffing the floor and the rickety table wobbling as anything touched it. Blaine looked around at the local pictures hung around the small eating area, spanning as far back in time as the store’s beginning, clear up to present day.

“You in any of these?”

Kurt looked behind where Blaine was sitting and back again, shoving the straw in his mouth as soon as he answered. “Nope.”

Blaine caught the glance and twisted around in his chair, spotting a grouping of pictures that looked to be from a high school. He stood to take a closer look.

“Uh, you don’t want to let your fries get cold.”

“Oh. I’ll be right back.” A smile spread across his face as he got closer. “Hrm…McKinley High…” He leaned into the topmost picture of a show choir where Kurt stood in the middle dressed in a black outfit with a gold bow tie and gold suspenders looking cute as a button. His arms were lazily draped over a pretty blonde girl’s shoulders as she leaned back against him. “What year?”

“My senior year, 2012.”

“Were you guys any good?”

“National Champions. Keep looking, you might recognize someone else…”

Blaine leaned in further and saw him. “Oh! The guy with the mohawk…what’s his name?”

“Lieutenant Noah Puckerman. We call him Puck.”

“Okay. I would have _never_ pegged him as a choir boy. He’s with…Bath Township?”

“Yep. He’s only been in the department about 5 years.”

“We helped with that barn fire out his way on my first day. Good department.”

“They all are around here, really. And might I say, thank you all for not allowing mohawks as a part of the uniform. I hated that rat on his head.”

“Yeah, that’s not…no. You, however, are adorable.” Blaine took his seat and popped a fry in his mouth. “So. Lunch, take two?”

“Dot graciously offered to join us again.”

“Did she? I like her; she’s a pip.”

“I do too. Usually. Sometimes being a pip makes you a pain in the ass.”

“So…” Blaine grabbed one of Kurt’s zucchini strips and dipped it into the ranch dressing, no apology, no permission asked. Just took it. And Kurt, normally very protective of his food, could only look at him incredulously, blushing when Blaine winked at him. “…what brought you to working for disaster response? If I can risk offending…you don’t look the part.”

Kurt lifted an eyebrow and chuffed. “That’s probably because it’s not my real job. I was looking for balance.”

“No? So, what’s your real job?”

“I’m a technical designer for Marc Jacobs.”

Blaine’s eyes popped up over the top of his sandwich, trying to quickly get the bite to where he could talk around it. “Aszh in…the deszhigner, Marc Jzacobszh?”

Kurt offered Blaine a napkin and bit back a laugh, motioning to a bright drip of mustard hanging onto the corner of his mouth. “Yes, the designer, Marc Jacobs. Men’s day wear.”

“Okay, _that_ job makes more sense. But, why in the hell are you in Lima Ohio? Something tells me his headquarters aren’t here.”

“They’re in New York. And, my dad’s ill. I came back after Christmas this year to help my step-mom and step-brother.”

“Oh yikes. What’s wrong with him?”

“Heart disease. And now some dementia.”

“Damn, he has to be too young for that. My dad’s only 65.”

Kurt nodded. “58. He arrested when I was in high school and tried to take care of himself, but he’s stubborn, has a sick heart and loves…” Kurt looked at his food choices and sighed, popping another zucchini strip in his mouth, talking around it. “…fried foods.”

“Eh, moderation. We only get one life to enjoy.”

“True. So, I saw how stressed Carole and Finn were over the holidays and I was mentioning it to a supervisor and the next thing I know, they offered me this remote package. I took it and moved back within the week.”

“So, how long do you think you’ll be here?”

“Well…” Kurt twirled a strip into the dressing, not eating as much as playing with his food. “…until he’s gone? And at the moment, he’s taking his sweet time. He’s not _dy_ ing. He’s just deteriorating very, very slowly. But he’ll never be better than he is today, so I’ll stick it out as long as he needs me.”

“That’s an awfully big sacrifice.”

“I suppose. He’s just getting mean as hell and it was taking a lot out of Carole and Finn. That’s just not him.” Kurt sighed and picked off a bite of his sandwich. “He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s just the way things are. He’s my rock and…I never thought I’d see it crumble.”

They sat in silence, Kurt nibbling on his food, trying not to turn into a blubbering idiot in front of this man. This man who, with the simplicity of a kind gaze, was patiently letting him collect himself and then redirect his thoughts once it was clear he was okay. Simple kindness, flirty eyes, curly hair _begging_ to have fingers dancing through it, yeah. He was just about perfect.

“So, what exactly does a technical designer at Marc Jacobs do? In Lima Ohio?”

“Short answer? I take the illustrated designs for each season and through a very involved process, get them into proto-types for runway and buyers.”

“How long does something like that take?”

“Takes about a 12 to 18 months per collection. So, right now I’m finishing up Fall/Winter ’24 and starting Spring/Summer ‘25.”

“This also explains why you’re so well put-together.”

“I wouldn’t say…”

“You wore a designer track suit to a fire, Kurt.”

Kurt appropriately blushed. “That I did. So…let me stretch our judgments on each other a bit further…”

“Wait. Did I just offend you?”

“No.” Kurt felt Blaine’s eyes still searching and he smiled and stole a French fry. “No. I do take pride in how I look. It’s not a secret.”

“It shows. And you were in the process of judging me?”

“I was. Since when does a fireman know a designer anything when he sees it?”

“Ah. Well, I spend too many hours of my day stuffed into a crappy uniform, so I like to dress well when I can. And looking at fashion magazines has always been a guilty pleasure.” Blaine blushed before slurping up the last drops of his pop. “Anyway…you, uh. You make clothes look really good.”

Kurt smiled and sat up straighter. “Well, thank you. I also get really good clothes for next-to-nothing, so…it’s probably more the clothes than the man.”

“Oh…I’d challenge that.” Blaine wadded up his papers and tossed them on the tray. “Now, I’m going to take my city-issued polyester uniformed ass back up there and get us some milkshakes. What’s your flavor?”

“Peach. With a spoon.”

***

Blaine met Kurt outside chuckling to himself as he straddled the picnic bench Kurt was sitting on. “I see why you get a spoon. I think I sucked my face in on itself and I still haven’t tasted anything.”

Kurt laughed and took his milkshake, dipping the spoon in and moaning obnoxiously as he ate. “Chunks. Real ones. Go get a spoon, you fool.”

Blaine nodded and jogged in, coming back out while chewing and smacking at the chunk of peach he’d caught in his first dip. “This is made of heaven.”

“Peaches _are_ heaven, aren’t they?”

“They must be. If not, I’m not going.” Blaine took his spot back, straddling the bench and leaning on the picnic table, trying the straw again and failing while Kurt quietly ate and tried not to laugh. The poor man had already emasculated himself at the fire. There was no need to add milkshake failure to his questionable resume. “So, I still don’t quite get how C-DRT works into you being a…what’d you call it? Technical designer?”

“Yes. And it doesn’t work into it, which is why I do it. The fashion industry is just…” Kurt slurped a spoonful of shake in his mouth, talking around the cold chunkiness of it. “…so fucking self-serving. Self-centered, self-involved, me, me, _are you looking at me yet?_ me. I was turning into a first class bitchy queen and I couldn’t stand myself anymore.”

“So, you started volunteering – that makes sense.”

“All I know is it’s helped since I got here.” Kurt flopped a spoonful upside down onto his tongue and licked it off. “My hours are less in demand as they are in New York. And I remembered all C-DRT did for the tornado victims a few years back in Bluffton. I swore if I ever lived here again or had a chance in New York, I’d pitch in.”

“Oh, so you didn’t do this there?”

“No, but when I go back, I’ll probably look into it. That just seems too far out of reality right now, though.”

Blaine’s questions stopped and it would have been uncomfortable except that Kurt was so enamored with Blaine’s face, his caramel-colored eyes, and the way his lips wrapped around his straw, the chiseled, angular jaw, that the moments seemed to disappear. Until Blaine licked a drop of shake off his lips and looked up into Kurt’s eyes at the same time. Kurt blushed and remembered the concept of getting-to-know-you conversation. “So, what’s your story, fireman?”

Blaine chuffed and stirred his shake with the straw, lifting it and licking it, catching Kurt’s eye again, clearly knowing exactly what he was doing. “Now we enter the cliché portion of our afternoon…”

“Your house burned down as a kid.”

“My house burned down when I was ten.”

“Oh shit.” Kurt smacked his hand over his mouth and stifled a laugh. “Hello. I’m an asshole.”

“You’re fine. I’m pretty over it.”

“Did you lose everything?”

“Mostly. But there was this cool fireman and like I said, I was ten. Add water and you get an instant hero. After that, I never wanted to do anything else. When I was 16, the school posted opportunities to be a volunteer with the department, I hopped on the truck and I’ve never looked back.”

“Ah, so _that’s_ how you got to be Chief so young…”

“Yeah, been doing this for 12 years now.”

“And, did I hear right? You’re from Findley?”

“Yep, born and bred…”

“So, why come down to Lima?”

“There was no chance for advancement there. The chief’s son was always one rank ahead of me and when Daddy retires, he’ll be chief. Which, I was okay with.” Blaine shrugged and slurped up the last of his shake, pouting into his empty cup. “A buddy told me about the opening here and I figured what the hell? I needed a fresh start, this town is similar and I’m still close to family…”

“Well, we’re glad to have you. We need young blood in this county. It’s such a mentally old town.”

“Yeah, it’s still pretty Norman Rockwell.”

“Which isn’t all bad, but if you want to do anything exciting you have to drive into Dayton or Columbus.”

“…I was going to ask you about that. Is Friday night good for you?” Blaine gathered their cups and stood, offering his hand for Kurt to balance and spin out of the picnic bench as he agreed to their date night. “Do you mind – since you know the town better – can you pick a good place to eat?”

“Sure. What are you thinking? Bar food? More formal?” Blaine tossed the cups and they walked to the car hand in hand, leaning against their own vehicles, fingers lazily laced between them.

“I honestly don’t care. I just want to get to know you.”

“You make it too easy.”

“Why complicate things?” Blaine lifted Kurt’s hand to his mouth and kissed two fingers before unlocking his door. “I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I’ll make Dot stay at home this time.”

“Please do.”

***

“Did you survive without your chaperone?”

“We did, thank you very much. Although, he’s a food stealer.”

“Did you smack him?”

“No, I just watched because his mouth is pretty.” Kurt plopped into the extra chair in Dot’s office and sighed.

“Are you always like this with a new boy?”

“You mean dopey? No. Not since high school.”

“He _is_ pretty. He’s charming and cute and maybe I’m projecting, but somewhere under that station uniform, there has to be a little bit of naughty.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to have this discussion you.”

“You started it!”

“I said his mouth was pretty. Besides, I’ve already considered his potentially naughty side. The more he hides it under blushes, eyebrow wiggles and interesting straw maneuvers, the more I’m convinced you’re right.”

“I knew there was more to you than that pristine exterior.”

“I’m a man of many layers, Dot. Many, many layers.”

“Yeah, and you’d better go easy on them when you dress for your date or he’s never going to get you naked.”

“Okay, new rule. My nakedness? Never to be a topic between us.” Kurt stood and nudged Dot playfully as he walked out to the hall. “Now, if you want to discuss the _chief’s_ nakedness…”

“I expect a report Monday morning!”

“I told you, lady. I’m not that kind of boy!”

They fell into the comfortable silence that typically settled on their office of two and after a few hours, Dot stood in his doorway, ready to take off for the day. “Seriously Kurt? Be careful.”

Kurt tilted his head in question, the overly maternal concern unusual for Dot. “I will be??”

“If this thing with the chief gets hot and heavy and then goes sour, it can really screw up our relationship with the department. And that relationship is critical in this county.”

“I know. I’m not…I’m not crossing any ethical lines am I?”

“No, not at all. You can date whoever the hell you want. Just…no matter what happens? When it’s time for you to do your job, you put aside anything personal. Good, bad…any of it. On a scene, our clients are your priority. Not your love life.”

“I know. And I promise not to take his pants off in the truck ever again.”


	4. Chapter Three

Blaine stripped off his third attempt at a shirt and sat at the foot of his bed, staring at the moron in the mirror. If he never knew Kurt worked in the fashion industry, he’d have been dressed half an hour early and pacing the kitchen floor. Instead, he was still shirtless and nearing the you’re-going-to-be-late zone.

“This is stupid.” He reached back and blindly chose the D & G, then the Armani and after touching the Versace and reconsidering, wiggled his way into the D & G. He didn’t even try to look in the mirror again because he’d quadruple guess himself and that was beyond ridiculous. Looking half as good as Kurt was not going to happen. But, seeing how Kurt looked so amazing all the time, half-as-good-as-Kurt wasn’t so bad.

With that acceptance, Blaine got in his truck and headed across town. He obeyed his GPS and took a left at the light, eyeing a shabbily dressed man selling flowers on the corner. He wheeled around through a gas station and pulled up next to the gentleman as his GPS voice beckoned him back onto the right path.

“How much?”

“How many do you want?”

Blaine hopped out of his truck and scanned the bucket of roses. “Don’t the colors have different meanings?”

“They do. Red’s for love, of course. Yellow is friendship, pink is grace, and orange is my favorite. Desire and passion. But! It’s a mix of red and yellow, so there’s affection there, too. The perfect trio, don’t you think?” The man grinned a toothless grin and held out a hand for his payment, long before Blaine made a choice.

“I’ll take a single orange one, please.”

“A lucky, lucky one, she is.”

Blaine pulled out his wallet and handed the man a $10 bill. “He. Is. And keep the change.”

***

Blaine and his GPS had a lovely conversation the rest of the way to Kurt’s, discussing the ins and outs of the two lunches he’d already shared with him.

“Surely he’s just being kind to the new guy in town. It can’t be that he’s the least bit attracted to me. I’m just a working stiff.”

“Proceed forward 500 ft. and turn left.”

“I know, one step at a time and all, but…he’s just so classy and elegant and…I’m me. I’m being absurd. And sweating enough to justify another shower.”

“Make a left turn onto Yoakam Road.”

“Yes. Absurd. I date regularly enough. I’m charming. He even said so himself. I can do this, right?”

“Your final destination is 750 yards ahead on your right.”

“I’m glad we had this chat.” Blaine clicked the device off and pulled into Kurt’s drive, not wasting an extra minute. Except that extra one where he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror to make sure he would pass the hi-I’m-not-freaking-out-like-a-prepubescent-teenager test.

***

“You did not get me a flower.”

Blaine offered the single rose as he stepped inside, smiling when Kurt took it and sniffed, peeking over the petals with a coy grin. “I probably shouldn’t mention that I got it from a bum on a corner.”

“No, you probably shouldn’t.” Kurt pulled the flower out of its tissue and told Blaine to make himself comfortable. “I’ll get a vase. I love this shade of orange.”

Blaine eased himself onto the couch and looked around at Kurt’s home – modern and sophisticated with whimsical retro accents throughout, many of them in shades of orange. He was a genius.

“There we go. Just right.” Kurt put the cobalt bud vase on a side table, rearranging a few other pieces to make it look like it belonged. “Is Thai okay for dinner?”

“That sounds great.”Blaine stood and bit his bottom lip. “Am I…am I dressed okay for that restaurant?”

“Yes! I was going to tell you I love that shirt…love D & G’s casual line.” He started to head towards the hall and stopped, turning to reach out for Blaine’s arm. “You’re a nervous wreck.”

“I am…”

“Why?”

Blaine blinked. Kurt really had no clue how gloriously stunning he was. “I just…I’m both lured and intimidated by you.”

“Oh for the love of…stop. Now, had we met in college, that would make sense. I was a pretentious queen, but…”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh honey…if you’re looking for a _real_ angel in a red vest, we need to call this off right now.”

Blaine jerked his gaze up and smiled. “You remembered…”

“It was barely a week ago.”

“But, you kept it with you.”

Kurt reached out and squeezed Blaine’s arm. “It’s when my heart started racing.”

Blaine flushed and took Kurt’s hand, kissing a knuckle, willing himself to breathe. “Ah. Well. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. Just give me one more minute.” He slipped down the hall to collect his pocket belongings and came back, lacing his fingers in Blaine’s as they headed out. “You really do look great. I’m thinking a uniform burning is in order.”

***

“I had some peaches left. You want to slice them on top?”

“Mmmm, yes.” Blaine scooped into the cold container and plopped rounds of homemade peach ice cream onto shortcakes while Kurt sliced and shared the juicy bits of fruit. All nerves from earlier in the evening had since vanished. Their conversation at dinner was comfortable and if nothing ever moved beyond this moment – the one with sliced peaches and already too-full bellies and great conversation – Blaine was content in the companionship. But really, he liked the idea being a little more than content.

Kurt offered a peach slice and Blaine sucked it in, watching Kurt slip a slice to himself, his tongue grabbing up escaping juice from the corner of his mouth. He hurriedly went back to scooping ice cream, lest his knees buckle on the spot.

“Don’t you wish we could eat peaches year ’round?”

“…well we _can_. They just taste like wet sand or tin cans.”

“Mmm, yummy. You should write ads.” Kurt splayed the fruit into the bowls and licked his fingers noisily. “Take these on in the living room. I’ll get some wine. Or…” Kurt opened his refrigerator and sighed. “Yeah, wine or water.”

“Whatever. I don’t care.” Blaine sat on the couch, peeling off a chunk of shortcake before Kurt came in, blushing when he was caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “Sorry. It looks too irresistible to wait.”

They toasted nothing in particular as Kurt sat, tucking one leg under the other and grabbed his bowl, starting to take a bite. Blaine’s still sat on the table. “Are you staring or being a gentleman and waiting on me?”

Blaine cleared his throat and grabbed his bowl, digging into the ice cream. “I would be staring. Which isn’t very gentlemanly.”

“Hmm. I won’t say it bothers me though.”

“Good. You’re very nice to stare at.” Blaine tasted the ice cream and moaned, letting it slowly melt in his mouth. “So, I’m sure you spent your day hand cranking this.”

“Yes. That’s exactly how I spent my day. Blood, sweat and tears.”

“Have you ever hand cranked ice cream before?”

“Oh my god, yes. Which is why my Cuisinart and I are best friends. It was one of my dad’s hair brained ideas. What _is_ it with dads and hair brained ideas?”

“ _My_ dad used to say it was from living with a woman.”

“That must be it. I never have hair brained ideas.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “I have entirely too many hair brained ideas to believe that one.”

“Mmm, maybe so, but when did hand cranking ice cream become a good idea with a 6 year old boy who liked tea parties and dressing up his G.I. Joe’s?”

“You seem to be very attached to your bitterness, my dear.”

“My arm almost fell off. And I got sent to my room for crying. And Mom and Dad fought – they _never_ fought. And anyway, the ice cream was like soup. How is that a good Saturday?”

Blaine laughed and mockingly pet Kurt’s leg. “Poor baby. I bet you didn’t eat ice cream for a year.”

“No, I convinced Mom to go buy an electric machine like the Peterson’s had next door. You know, the normal family who had a picnic and ice cream right after, not 6 hours and an anxiety attack later.”

“You clearly had a very traumatic childhood.”

“Didn’t we all?” Blaine kept laughing between bites and Kurt huffed. “Tell me your dad did stupid shit, please. I could not have been the only kid in the late 90’s to have mental scars from hair brained fathers.”

“Day trips.”

Kurt gasped. “Oh my god, I _hated_ day trips!”

“Throw two kids in a car for three hours to go to a place they never wanted to go in the first place – we were having fun with Legos, thank you – promising _Native American relics ooh, ahh,_ and end up at a big green field with sort of snakey-looking three-foot hills. And? Not a tomahawk to be found.”

“[Serpent Mound](http://www.greatserpentmound.com/). I hated that place.”

“You were dragged there too? Are you kidding me? Literally. Hills I could ride my bike over. Although, hell _that_ might have made the place fun. You couldn’t even climb on the stupid things. You got to look at them and read signs about…something.”

“And that gift shop? Dad tried to lure me there when he could tell I was trying to find sticks to stab him with. Shopping cured everything. Except the travesty that is Serpent Mound.”

Blaine cracked up again. “I don’t even remember the gift shop.”

“My point exactly. _Come on Kurt, let’s see if they have any cool geodes or feathers. You love feathers…_ Nothing. Books. And statues of Indians and buffalo. And then? And then…”

“He’s pissed at you for the rest of day because you don’t appreciate that he’s trying to _broaden your cultural horizons_.”

“YES!!” Kurt lifted his hand for a high five and laughed when they missed. “You said two kids – sibling?”

“I have a brother, but he was no help. He _loved_ that shit.” Blaine put his empty bowl down and smacked his lips. “That was divine, by the way.”

“It is good, isn’t it? You want more?”

“I’ll explode.”

“Not on my couch you won’t.”

“Of course not. But, my brother – he pretended to love it just to get a rise out of me.”

“Older? Younger?”

“Older – 9 years. Tormenting me was his life’s work.”

Kurt pet Blaine’s leg as he’d done it to him before. “Poor baby. Are you best friends now?”

“We’re close, yeah. He still gives me hell, but…”

“It’s his life’s work after all.”

***

Blaine shifted on the couch, trying not to break the position they’d been in, but numb buns were winning over the comfort of cuddling. Kurt sat up anyway and rolled his back forward, groaning at the pull. “Is it me, or is this movie a bit slow?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything, but…”

“Blaine… _say_ something. I don’t want you to be miserable…”

“Oh, I was far from miserable. I just decided to focus on how cozy you were. But then my butt went to sleep. Besides, I probably should head out.”

“Okay. It is late, isn’t it?”

Blaine fetched his sandals and slipped them on, grinning at the smiling face waiting for him when he righted himself.

Kurt ran his fingers down Blaine’s arm, catching his hand and pulling him toward the door. “I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“I did too. Even though you’re still wrong.”

“Mmm?”

“ _Pride and Prejudice_ is Austen’s best work.”

“I’m not discussing this with you anymore. Besides, the movie for _Sense and Sensibility_ trumps any argument you might put forth, so.”

“So? _So_ is your final word?”

“Yes. Kate Winslet and Emma Thompson simply make your argu-…”

Blaine had been thinking about what it would feel like to kiss Kurt’s lips since he met him at the fire. They were soft like his voice, perfectly pink, lush and inviting. So when he finally did it, when his lips were interrupting Kurt’s silly argument, he couldn’t help but smile against them. And even chuckle with Kurt in the midst of it all. Because really, his imagination hadn’t even begun to skirt at how amazing it would actually be.

A little more of his lips sounded good too, so he cupped Kurt’s jaw in his hand and pressed in again, breathing in deep as if to draw him in even further. With a soft smack, he pulled back – only a little, their lips still brushing as he spoke, whispered, catching his breath. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

Kurt smiled sweetly, soft kisses dotting his words. “Then for god’s sake, why didn’t you?”

Blaine pressed forward again, parting his lips and tracing Kurt’s bottom lip with his tongue, tasting, teasing as their tongues met, a moan at how delicious it all was escaping from his throat. Another step back for a breath and he was grinning, a flush reddening his cheeks. “I just didn’t want to presume anything…”

But Kurt stepped forward, his eyes bright blue and searching. “You need to stop being so polite.” Kurt traced the blush on Blaine’s cheek. “And just kiss me again.”

Blaine was nothing if not cooperative. With a soft groan, he pulled Kurt to him again, hot this time, their bodies pressing together, every slide of Kurt’s hands up his arms, down his back sending waves of heat to his core. Kurt tasted sweet of peaches and wine and the soft whispers of contentment he sighed swirled around his head telling him to never stop. That this space was the happiest space on earth.

They finally came up for air, smiling bashfully at each other, belied by their flushed cheeks and totally blown pupils. “I, um…” Blaine leaned in for one more soft kiss, tugging Kurt toward the door. “Walk me out?”

They stepped onto the porch, turning off the light to deter the gathering moths from intruding. As soon as the door latched behind them, everything shifted, Blaine gasping as Kurt pushed him back against it, his mouth hot and demanding more than the sweet Disney movie kisses they’d enjoyed inside. Blaine kept up, melting into Kurt’s touch, the hot press of his body, the soft slide of Kurt’s lips against his.

Blaine pushed in closer, walking a hand around Kurt’s back, breaking the kisses only to murmur stumbled thoughts, his brain misfiring at anything remotely coherent. “Jesus…Kurt…so fucking…” He dared to leave Kurt’s lips, trailing up his jaw line, licking and sucking and kissing at his neck, soft and lithe, vibrating whenever Kurt moaned and mumbled lovely words like _you taste so good_ and _kiss…more…soft…want._

When Blaine suckled at the tender spot underneath Kurt’s ear, Kurt’s knees gave a little and Blaine took over, grabbing at Kurt’s waist and rolling them, pushing him against the door. He pressed into him, his kisses more urgent, more demanding, his tongue sweeping into Kurt’s mouth before languishing with breathy brushes of lip against lip. Kurt wrapped his ankle around Blaine’s calf, pulling him in, breath heavy between them. They shared shy breathless smiles and sunk into another searing kiss, jolting when the doorbell rang, nudged by Kurt’s elbow.

“Shit! I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay…” Blaine struggled to find his voice, never knowing the simple act of kissing to get him so _fucking_ turned on, so riled, so completely wanting – at least not since hot make-out sessions in high school. “It’s probably…I should go anyway, so…”

Betraying his own words, Blaine slid his arm back around Kurt’s waist, caressed his face, pushing hair back that wasn’t in the way just for the excuse to brush, to gaze, to sneak in kisses and watch Kurt’s lashes flicker at every new touch. He took him again, unable to resist Kurt’s lips, parted and inviting, rolling his hips forward, peeking through his half-lidded haze when their erections pressed together through the fabric of their shorts. “Oh fuck…” He traced Kurt’s lips with his finger as if in awe of what they were doing to him…of what he wanted them to do to him. “This is not what I had planned for tonight…”

Kurt’s eyes flickered open, his tongue peeking between his lips to lick at Blaine’s finger as it passed, his breath still ragged. As if having a mind of their own, their hips pressed together beginning a slow, steady rhythm, to music only they could hear. “Me either, but…damn.”

Blaine rested his head on Kurt’s shoulder, the gentle push of their hips never stopping, slow and calculated, intensifying the longer they stayed. He swallowed thickly and lifted his head, pausing as Kurt kissed his temple, letting his lips linger, hot and moist on his skin. Reluctantly, he stepped back and closed his eyes in frustration, ignoring the soft whimper from Kurt, common sense making a very unwelcome visit. “I should probably go…”

But when he dared look into Kurt’s eyes again, finding him breathless and flushed, his lips swollen and his eyes bright and clear and beautiful and…pleading?…he had to question what in the hell common sense had to do with anything.

It had nothing to do with anything.

And so, he groaned in defeat, moving in for another kiss, hot and wet, working his lips down Kurt’s jaw again, tasting his salty skin, nibbling down the tendon, dipping his tongue in every valley as Kurt leaned back, letting him explore and savor every inch of his neck. Kurt pulled him in, forceful fingers at his waist, his leg wrapped around his calf, inching higher until the whole of their bodies were together moving, seeking slow and steady, more insistent, more eager, just…more.

Kurt slid his hands up Blaine’s arms and shoulders, finally cupping Blaine’s face in his hands, their erections slotting together again between hissed breath and stolen kisses. He broke free, his voice deep and broken. “Do you _have_ to go?”

Blaine took Kurt’s wrists and kissed each pulse point curling them into his neck, still grinding, still breathless, control slipping away with each motion. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes.” Even Kurt blushed at his quick answer, covering it by dipping down to take Blaine’s neck, licking and sucking just under his t-shirt collar. He kissed his way back up to his ear, pulling his lobe into his mouth and whispered. “Please stay.”

Blaine’s answer came as a slow, sweet smile crowned with a kiss, almost chaste in its tenderness. As Kurt reached back for the doorknob, Blaine brushed his lips against Kurt’s one more time. “I thought you’d never ask.”


	5. Chapter Four

Even though Kurt was the one turning the knob, he was just as surprised as Blaine when the door gave. They stumbled into the house, tripping over the door jam, righting themselves only when Blaine caught their weight with his arm on the table inside the door. The lamp wobbled, Kurt caught it and a moth flew in to watch the show. And yet? They never stopped kissing and licking and nipping, chuckling through it all stopping only so Kurt could lock the door again.

Blaine tried to toe his sandals off, his hands tangled in Kurt’s hair, giggles being muffled by their dotted, stumbling kisses. “Fuck. Hang on.” He bent down to unbuckle the fool things and Kurt huffed, pulling at the hem of Blaine’s shirt dragging it over his back, his nails scraping deliciously up his skin. Finally barefoot, Blaine curled out of his shirt as he stood, scooping Kurt into his arms with a groan, crashing their mouths together, clumsily following Kurt to his room, to the bed, quickly, quickly, quickly.

They paused in the hall, Blaine pulling to un-tuck Kurt’s shirt, twisting fabric, scratching skin, battling Kurt’s attempts to help. Finally, skin to skin, their frantic motion stopped, soaking in the moment, the warmth and soft hardness of a new, unfamiliar body. With shy smiles, Blaine lost for moments in the pools of Kurt’s eyes, dark with want, they kissed again – softly at first then more deliberate, Kurt’s tongue tasting at Blaine’s bottom lip and sucking it in as Blaine’s hands scraped down Kurt’s back to grab his ass and pull him in close and hard. “Want you.”

“Mmm. Yes. My room’s…” Kurt pointed over Blaine’s shoulder and kissed between his words. “…over there…go on in. I need to uh…find some…things.”

Blaine nodded and stole one more kiss before heading into Kurt’s room, blindly skimming the wall for a light switch. He flipped the light on, noticing a dimmer and set it just so, smiling at the feel of the room. It was regal, classy, elegant with simple contemporary lines, muted colors and lush fabrics and yet, the wall art and accessories tossed splashes of color and whimsy into the mix. It mirrored the dichotomy of Kurt’s playful elegance perfectly.

Kurt was still knocking around in a closet somewhere else, so he pulled the bed back, Kurt’s intoxicating scent wafting from the sheets, a combination of a wooded, citrusy spiciness that he’d been inhaling and memorizing all night as they cuddled on the couch watching movies. How a scent could spur arousal, he didn’t know but there it was, luring him into the bed. He sat down and hiked back to recline on the pillows and headboard, breathing in deep, palming his re-growing erection through his shorts.

“Well, aren’t you a welcome sight in my bed.”

Blaine peeled his eyes open and tightened his grip on himself seeing Kurt standing in the doorway, regal and classy and elegant, the glint of ornery in his eye telling of brazen raunchiness entangled in the grace. It made Blaine’s breath hitch, his skin tingle. “Come join me.”

And Kurt did, tossing _some…things_ on the bedside table, crawling and sliding his body up over Blaine’s pulling him down flat against the mattress, moaning as their bare chests met again, warm and welcoming. “Hi, Gorgeous.”

“Hi, Beautiful.”

With one more shy smile, their lips crashed together, Kurt pressing his hips into Blaine’s, small, undulating rolls as he slotted between Blaine’s legs. Blaine cupped at the curve of his ass, feeling the muscles tense and flex with each thrust, pulling him in closer as he wrapped his legs around Kurt’s grinding hips.

Kurt nipped his way down Blaine’s jaw to his neck, dipping his tongue behind the tendon there, sucking on any flesh he could, thrusting and rutting and finally, among grunts and breath and lips and the bliss of it all, “We need to be naked.”

“Yes, please.” In one motion, Blaine rolled Kurt over kissing his way down his body pausing to taste at his nipples, urged on as Kurt hissed and bucked with each new touch, his fingers sinking into Blaine’s curls, scratching gently at his scalp. He worked his way down his abdomen with his mouth, sliding a hand up Kurt’s thigh into the hem of his shorts. The fabric rucked up around his wrist as he eased his fingers towards Kurt’s erection. He licked and sucked at his belly, dipping his tongue into Kurt’s navel, chuckling at the squeak that it induced.

When he landed on Kurt’s dick, he groaned deep, all the pent up desire from the simple act of kissing released in this one touch. He smoothed his hand over the length of it, pressing in, finally curling his fingers around, over the cotton fabric of his underwear, smiling around the soft kisses he was placing all over Kurt’s hips. Kurt arched into his touch and he peeked up through his lashes, moaning again at the sight before him.

Kurt’s chest was flushed and heaving, his lips parted and swollen, one hand was raking and pulling through his typically coiffed hair. The threads of his outer shell were unraveling and Blaine was happy to watch the transformation – to cause it. “Is this good? I want to make you feel good.”

Kurt broke out of his reverie and looked down, smiling into Blaine’s earnest eyes. “It’s perfect. More naked.” He fumbled at the button on his waistband and chuckled when his fingers just wouldn’t work. “Fuck.”

“Let me, baby…lie back.”

“Mmmm…hurry. I want to feel you.”

Blaine chuckled as he worked, dotting kisses to Kurt’s chest and belly, hips and arms with each new motion. “I don’t get to worship your body just a _little_ first?” Finally free, he pulled Kurt’s shorts down, chortling at the wide banded briefs underneath.

“Later. Right now, I just want- - what are you laughing at?” Kurt hiked up on his elbows, indignant. Breathless. Breath- _taking_.

“Marc Jacobs underwear? That’s some major company loyalty.”

“They’re _free_ , dammit! What are you sporting there, Vercase? Lima City embossed Fruit of the Loom?”

Blaine hooked his fingers under the waistband of the briefs, licking up his length and tonguing the head peeking up over the elastic before freeing it from its confines. Its designer confines. “You wish.” He laughed as Kurt fell backwards with a groan, a gasp and a whine, his fingers fisting into the sheets at every moist, hot touch of Blaine’s tongue.

Yanking Kurt’s briefs all the way down, Blaine stood to slip his own shorts and briefs off, kissing his way back up Kurt’s legs, spreading him open as he went, settling in between his legs, long and pale, the thick muscles of his thighs begging for his touch. “Actually, my briefs?…” _kiss, nip, lick…_ “have a little fireman on the hip.”… _squeeze, suck, bite…_ “…and his hose is snaking up the fly.” He licked up the valley between Kurt’s thigh and crotch, pressing his legs further apart, nipping at the tendon as it pulled taught. “They’re very sexy.”

Kurt was moaning and laughing, his cock aching for touch again. He lifted his head and rolled his hips up begging, trying desperately to sound irritated, instead sounding hot, abused and totally wrecked. “Blow me, Blaine.”

“I’m working on it, babe.” He hiked up from between Kurt’s legs and scanned his eyes over his body, licking his lips when he landed on Kurt’s dick, long and perfectly hard, a pearl of moisture at the tip. He took hold of him in his hand, the weight and heat of it intoxicating. “Jesus Christ, you are magnificent.”

Kurt rolled his hips again in appreciation and Blaine met him with his tongue, swirling around the head, sneaking away the tease of pre-cum at the slit. Kurt fell back onto the pillows and Blaine grinned, squeezing the base of Kurt’s cock as he sucked the head into his mouth, bobbing and tasting for a few moments before smoothly taking him in full. Hallowing his cheeks to suck, he fell into a steady rhythm, working his tongue up the underside of Kurt’s cock, bathing the tip and crown with his tongue and back down again and again, holding Kurt’s hips as he worked.

On one down stroke, he paused, breathing in Kurt’s musky scent, his nose tickled by the soft hair there. He swallowed around his cock, groaning as he pulled up, suction tightening his lips as he pulled back up, and Kurt’s breathing shifted. His moans and curses heightened and as delicious as it all was, Blaine wanted more. With more one languid pull, he lifted from Kurt’s cock with a pop and kissed up the trail of hair to his navel.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…you are amazing…”

Blaine chuckled low and deep and wrapped his hand around Kurt’s spit-soaked cock, nipping and kissing around Kurt’s hips as he worked. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“No. Yes. I mean…fuck.” Kurt flopped his hand back to reach the lube and condoms, hiking himself up on his elbows again and groaning when he caught the sight of Blaine slowly stroking him, twisting his wrist just right, as though they’d practiced this a thousand times before. “Give me your hand.”

Blaine stopped and reached out and their eyes met, pausing all forward motion. They shared blushing smiles, the realization of the newness washing over them. “We okay?”

“We’re great. You’re…great.” Kurt took Blaine’s fingers and squirt lube into them, working it around, stroking his fingers and placing Blaine’s hand back around the shaft of his cock. He slipped a condom into Blaine’s other hand and winked before falling back, spreading his legs open and working his hips with Blaine’s hand sliding up and down, twisting over his cock.

“Let me know what you like, okay?”

“I like _you_ …” Blaine slid his hand down to cup Kurt’s balls, gently rolling them, as Kurt moaned and writhed beneath his touch. His finger pressed and circled over his perineum before dipping down to circle the rim of Kurt’s asshole. Kurt hissed and bucked, groaning as Blaine pushed his middle finger in knuckle deep. “…and I like that.”

“Good. You’re kind of an easy read at the moment.” Blaine trailed his gaze up Kurt’s body as he sunk his finger in full, curling and twisting in the heat. Watching Kurt writhe and move, liquid under his touch, Blaine’s patience was waning. “Can I?” He pressed a second finger near and Kurt nodded, spreading his legs further apart and pushing his body down on Blaine’s fingers, two sliding in. “Oh fuck, sweetheart. So beautiful.”

He stretched and curled his fingers, almost, almost, almost pressing over the sweetest of spots. Then three fingers and Kurt was about to come undone at Blaine’s care, at the wet kisses and suckles that he dotted all over his skin, nipping, tasting, whispering words of praise and finally pushing that extra angle to send Kurt’s moans into cries. A few more strokes and then Kurt whimpered when Blaine’s fingers disappeared and the bed shifted under him.

“Hurry, hurry…oh god.”

Blaine teethed open the condom and quickly sheathed and lubed himself, stroking a few times before scooping under Kurt’s thighs and pulling him close, releasing one leg to guide himself in. He paused and looked down at the beautiful man, breathless and exquisite beneath him and smiled. “You okay?”

“Mmm…” Kurt grabbed at his own cock and swirled his ass around the tip of Blaine’s, grinning like the seductive minx he was. “Yes. In me. I need you in me.”

“Oh hell.”

Blaine groaned and pushed forward, holding Kurt’s body still with an arm wrapped around his thigh. He waited and watched and then, “Yes…go…please.” With one languid push, Blaine buried himself into Kurt’s heat, tight, soft, smooth. They rocked slowly at first, but with each thrust, with each guttural moan from Kurt, with each nail that dug into his thigh, their speed increased, hard and fast, the slow seduction of the moment all but gone.

Kurt lifted his leg up over Blaine’s shoulder, scrabbling at the bedding beneath him when Blaine sank in even further. “Kiss me…I need your mouth on mine.” Blaine met Kurt’s eyes, blown with lust, and lowered to cover his body, bending Kurt’s leg back with his arm, their skin slick with sweat, their motions timed and smooth. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s neck, cricketing his other leg against Blaine’s arm until he got the hint and scooped it up with them, closer and closer and with that one move Blaine’s cock sent rolls of sweet pleasure with every thrust.

Blaine curled into him, kissing his way down Kurt’s neck, nipping at his clavicle, pushing and filling, slowing their motions wanting this to last. He uncurled and releasing Kurt’s legs, lifting and pulling his hips closer, fisting around Kurt’s cock. Kurt wrapped his hand around Blaine’s and together they stroked and worked, Kurt’s ass clenching around Blaine with each push and pull until Blaine had to let go and clutch at Kurt’s hips, too far gone in his own need, in this beautiful man writhing and moaning beneath him.

Sounds of heady, masculine sex filled the room, filled their senses, driving them closer and closer. Riding on the edge, Kurt palmed the head of his cock and fisted down again and again, digging his fingers into Blaine’s thigh, desperate for release, so close, so amazing. His body tight and coiled, ready to unravel and Blaine just soaked it in, learning, memorizing every sound, every wave of motion, every tightened muscle. “There you go. Come on, babe,” and with Blaine’s words, ragged and used, Kurt came with a shout, streaks of white stringing up his stomach and chest with each pulse.

“Jesus fuck…” Blaine slammed into him one, two three more times and toppled over the edge, bucking and sinking into Kurt with each wave, white hot heat engulfing him, Kurt’s breathy mumblings, catching him, easing his return.

They curled together, winded and ruined, slippery and spent, kissing passionately as Blaine slipped out and settled on his side, removing and discarding the condom. “You…” he dotted Kurt’s face with kisses, brushing his matted bangs back, trying to find rhythm in breath again, “…cannot be real.”

Kurt moaned under his touch, snaking a leg between Blaine’s, their bodies still moving, slow and languid. “I assure you. I am real.” Kurt brushed Blaine’s cheek with his knuckles, his arms still weighted with lust. “…or that would not have been that astounding.”

Blaine leaned in and kissed him tenderly, chastely even, taking in the lines of his face, the softness of his lips, the mewls escaping every few breaths. “And what a pity that would be.” He rested his head in the crook of Kurt’s arm, humming as Kurt placed soft kisses on his forehead, tracing gently over the skin of his arm.

He ran his finger through the wetness on Kurt’s chest, chuckling as Kurt’s breath hitched. “Where would I find a washcloth for you?”

Kurt took his wrist and brought Blaine’s finger to his mouth, sucking it in, licking it clean. “I can get it…”

“Mmm….my god.” Blaine hiked up and kissed Kurt, swiping his tongue into his mouth for just a taste. “Let me…” He kissed the cleft in Kurt’s chin before grabbing the condom and heading into the bathroom, quickly finding a cloth and running it under warm water.

Blaine came back in and crawled on the bed, wiping down Kurt’s torso, following each swipe with a kiss. He eased the cloth over Kurt’s dick and gingerly cleaned, simply happy for an excuse to continue to touch him, all of him. So exquisite and graceful, so masculine and strong.

“Thank you.” Kurt smiled and took Blaine’s wrist in his hand, stopping his work. “Let’s rest awhile.”

***

Kurt stirred and moaned, squinting one eye as he turned his gaze toward the morning sun. Blaine smiled against his chest, having been covering it with tender kisses, easy traces of his fingers drawing over every rise and fall of muscle, of bone, mesmerized at how, even in sleep, his nipples would harden at the touch of his fingers and soften again with the warmth of his tongue.

“Mmmm….is this the part where you worship my body just a little bit?”

“Indeed.” Blaine continued his work, dragging his lips across Kurt’s skin, caring for every single spot, every freckle, every mark. “Roll to your side. I have a whole back to cover yet.”

Kurt moaned as he shifted, pulling Blaine’s arm along with him, blanketing his back with Blaine’s chest. He kissed and licked at Kurt’s shoulders and neck, scraping his teeth gently on any flesh he could, his hot breath warning of his next target. With one roll of his hips, Blaine slid his hardening length up the crack of Kurt’s ass and a slow, tortuous rhythm began, Kurt still groggy and foggy from sleep, his body simply responding to Blaine’s, soft sighs and mewls dusting over the quiet of the morning – exquisite, sleepy bliss. They moved and shifted in rhythm, Kurt slipping in and out of sleep as Blaine’s hands skimmed up and down his thighs, his hips, his abdomen and chest, caressing, easing, discovering.

Blaine reached a hand out to the bedside table to grab for the condoms and lube left there from hours before. He licked at the tender skin behind Kurt’s ear and traced the edge of his lobe with his tongue. “Yes?”

Kurt’s eyes opened half mast and he grinned sleepily, pushing his hips back, and bending his top leg, presenting, opening himself for him. “Yes, please.”

Blaine placed a tender kiss on the curve of Kurt’s shoulder and pulled back to sheath and lube himself, slipping his lubed fingers down Kurt’s crack to massage his hole, finding him still easily ready from hours before. “Oh, Kurt…”

“Yes. Please, Blaine.” Kurt curled back again, looking over his shoulder, eyes droopy, lips parted, the perfect invitation for Blaine to guide himself in.

Their throaty moans filled the room as he filled Kurt, slow and steady, gently lifting Kurt’s bent leg and pushing in full with a groan. “Lean back now; I’ve got you.”

And Kurt relaxed, his body becoming liquid under Blaine’s slow, measured pace. He littered Kurt’s neck and shoulders with soft kisses, his breath ghosting over his ear with moans and praises of how beautiful Kurt was. How he could stay in this bed forever making him happy, making him sigh. Making him come.

At that, Kurt caught his breath and slid his hand down to his own cock to stroke in rhythm with Blaine, his touch softer than usual, but the burning heat just begging to be released no less intense, no less needy. He curled his palm over the tip to gather the wetness there, fisting himself again, the intensity of this slow, delicious cadence doing him in. “Blaine…”

Blaine continued his tortured pace, his shallow thrust, exquisite warmth coursing through their bodies. “…you wanna come?” He kissed and licked at Kurt’s neck, long and inviting, gingerly sucking his earlobe into his mouth, hot and wet.

“No…”

“No?” Blaine adjusted and picked up the pace, a little deeper but still, his strokes easy, tight, a delicious pull as Kurt’s ass engulfed him, their bodies so slick, so in tune.

“Wanna stay like this…”

“Mmmm…yes.” More and soft and tight and slick and full and in time, Blaine could feel Kurt’s body shift even in the ease of their movements, quickening and shortened breath and curling back for kisses and mumbled words. Kurt tightened his grip on himself, twisting and pulling, his breath hitching, belying his earlier spoken wishes. “Need to come…Blaine…”

Together they urged, soft and hard, give and take, push and pull until Blaine was close too, sucking in his breath, pushing in full with steady thrusts, feeling the shift between them, that blissful moment, tension before ecstasy, whispering low and deep in Kurt’s ear. “Now.”

As if their bodies were on a switch, Kurt pushed back against Blaine with a soft cry, coming against his hand, onto the sheets, his body curving back into Blaine’s thrusts. Blaine called out and snapped into him, bucking with the waves of his orgasm, Kurt stilling, his legs snaking through Blaine’s, reaching back his come soaked hand to rub along the muscles of Blaine’s thigh until he stilled and settled.

Blaine folded against Kurt, curling further around him, snuggling them into the covers again. Kurt gently scratched at Blaine’s thigh, finding his voice, if still unable to utter complete sentences. “Want to stay like this. Never leaving this bed.”

“Yes. Fuck this town – let it burn.”

“Mmm…perfect idea.”

“I’ll let the mayor know.” As they settled and teased, Blaine continued dotting Kurt’s neck and shoulders with kisses and suckles, every touch sinking Kurt deeper into the covers, into the bliss of a lazy Saturday morning. Into the fantasy that they’d never have to leave.

After a short rest, never sleeping, but completely relaxed, Kurt shifted and groaned. “Come to think of it…I feel sort of slimed. And I’m starving.”

Blaine chuckled and kissed him tenderly, sitting up, pulling Kurt up with him. “Come on, then. Showers. Breakfast and then the awkward moment of _I really need to go._ ”

“…because I really do have to work today.”

“…and I really have to get a bunch of crap done at the house today.” Blaine stood and reached his hand out for Kurt to join him.

“Reality bites.”

“I don’t know. My reality the last week has been pretty fucking amazing, what about you?”

“Come to think of it…” Kurt walked across the bed on his knees, pressing his body against Blaine’s, lacing his fingers through his hair. “It has been pretty amazing. And…” He snuck one hand down and cupped Blaine, capturing his mouth with a searing kiss. “…I really haven’t met this gentleman very intimately yet.”

“He’s been in your ass. Twice. How intimate do you want this meeting to be?”

Kurt kissed his way down Blaine’s neck, sucking at the tender skin as his hand slid up Blaine’s growing length. “He hasn’t met my mouth yet.”

Blaine gulped and yanked Kurt off the bed, pulling him toward the bathroom. “Shower. Now. There are introductions to be made.”


	6. Chapter Five

Kurt handed Blaine a toothbrush, talking around his own. “Here – an extra.”

“Are you saying I have morning breath?”

“Clearly, I haven’t cared.” Kurt spit into the sink and rinsed his brush. “And if you want, I have some track pants in that bottom drawer over there. T-shirts are in the drawer above.”

“Ah, no sense doing the walk of shame…”

“Hey now. We’ve had…” Kurt calculated as he dried his mouth on a towel. “…as I see it, we’ve had five dates already. No shame.”

Blaine talked around his sudsy toothbrush. “Five? How do you figure?”

“The blind date at the fire, which you were only half conscious for, so you still owe me…”

“Of course.” _Spit. Rinse. Stand awkwardly with the toothbrush. Take it with or leave it for another time?_

Kurt grabbed it and stuck it in the holder with his. “Then, lunch with _Mom_ , our lunch alone where you stole my food and learned how to eat a proper milk shake.”

“I still say milkshakes should be sucked. With a straw.”

“You said it was heaven.”

“I said peaches were heaven.”

Kurt huffed and continued his countdown. “Then we returned to the scene of the first date for damage assessment…”

“Where I saved your ass from falling through from the second floor when I _told_ you not to go near those stairs. So. I owe you nothing.”

“My bump hat makes me deaf.”

“Your bump hat makes you adorable. And almost crippled.”

“I only cracked one floor board.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“Yes. And the fifth date, of course, was last night. So. We’re not floozies. Just…” Kurt met Blaine’s gaze in the mirror and bit his bottom lip. They were dressed only in waist-wrapped towels and Blaine still had a little drip of toothpaste on the corner of his lip which Kurt leaned down to clean with his tongue. “…we’re just minty fresh and have combustible chemistry together, that’s all.”

***

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:42]: Hey. I need help. I’m supposed to meet a hot guy at this meeting, but there aren’t any empty seats near anyone. Like he promised._

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:42]: He tells me he tried, but since The Chief couldn’t bother to be on time, someone else sat in the saved seat._

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:43]: You tell him The Chief with the capital C has responsibilities that don’t answer to a clock._

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:43]: The hot guy with the non-empty seat is horribly sorry. And we’re at your station – how long does it take you to walk to a meeting room?_

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:45]: Why are we here again? Seriously Blaine, I’m so bored, my ennui is starting to revolt._

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:45]: Oh sweetheart…that’s bad. Here’s a topic. Why is our speaker dressed like Popeye?_

Kurt cracked a laugh and tried to cover it with a cough, only eliciting a glare from Dot. When he snuck a peek to the back of the room where Blaine was sitting, he only got the giggles like a boy in church stuck between his disapproving grandmother and the priest. In other words, like he was in hell.

He _was_ in hell. Training hell. And really, did there really need to be training on how to use a radio? You turn it on, push the button, talk, put it away. They had this damned meeting room for 2 hours. They still had…he looked at his phone again and rolled his eyes…1 hour and 45 minutes left.

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:48] I’m so filled with my revolting ennui I didn’t even notice a fashion travesty. Blaine, we’re in hell. Together, which is good, but there’s a whole room full of people who don’t want to be in hell with us, I guarantee you._

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:48] Yes, but Popeye is here. I wonder if he brought Olive Oyl._

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:49] I’m only playing along if he brought Wimpy. I want a burger._

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:50] I’ll buy you a burger after the meeting. You can gladly pay me Thursday._

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:52] Do you know how turned on I am right now that you know Popeye? Although I am concerned you’re looking for the girl._

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:53] My brother did a great Olive Oyl impersonation. It’s a sentimental search._

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:53] I bet we could make this meeting more interesting if your Bluto kidnapped my Olive Oyl._

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:55] I thought we were looking for Wimpy. And burgers. And how did you just make Popeye sound suggestive?_

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:56] Focus, Blaine. We have 90 minutes left and we’re planning 1930 cartoon capers in real life. This won’t end well._

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:57]: How’s this? What happened to the Pope when he went to Mount Olive?_

_Kurt [07-18-23 19:59]: Okay, now you’re simply frightening me. What happened?_

_Blaine [07-18-23 8:01]: Popeye almost killed him!_

Kurt had to pause to look at Blaine in the back of the room, who was naturally gazing all over the place except within Kurt’s line of vision. The shithead.

_Kurt [07-18-23 20:03]: I think I’m beginning to understand Popeye’s desire to kill. Maybe we should be adults now? No more Olive Oyl. Dear god please, no more puns._

_Blaine [07-18-23 7:58] What about burgers?_

If there was going to be a quiz at the end of the evening, Kurt was going to fail. Blaine finally was getting his turn to speak and Kurt quickly forgot the ridiculous texting rampage in favor of drooling and day dreaming about running his tongue under the neckline of Blaine’s t-shirt. And remembering how his hands that were now expressing things like cooperative community service and thank-you-for-making-me-feel-at-home were, only days before and every night since, sliding and gripping and rubbing him to such states of bliss he still wasn’t convinced he’d come down yet.

“Stop making love to the man while he’s trying to speak.”

Kurt froze as Dot whispered in his ear, but a smile curled around his lips. “Look at him, woman. How can I not?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but your subtlety needs some work.”

“He has the crowd in the palm of his hands…no one’s paying attention to me.”

“He is. He stammers every time he looks at you.”

“That’s because I’m amazing. You can hardly blame him.”

The meeting eventually adjourned and once almost everyone had left, Blaine saddled up to Kurt, slipping an arm around his waist and whispered in his ear. “Burrrrgerrrrs.”

“Mmm…you really know how to woo a guy.”

“You know it.” He backed up and waved his goodbyes to Dot. “Seriously. I’m starving and it’s late. Is anything still open?”

“Yeah, there’s a pizza joint that makes great burgers – it’s about 5 minutes from my place. “

“Let me close up my office and we’ll go?”

“Do um…do you want to just stay over again?”

“I have to be back here at 6am…”

“I don’t care if you don’t. Just don’t expect breakfast in bed.”

“Late night snack in bed?”

“Served on a platter.”

***

“I’m heading out, babe.”

Kurt stirred, feeling Blaine’s breath on his cheek and reached out a sleep-heavy hand to touch him, almost poking him in the eye in the process. Blaine kissed him anyway.

“Mmm…have a good day.” Kurt reached again and rolled onto his back, blinking his eyes open as he caught Blaine’s hand. “Oooh, I forgot you were wearing your blues today.”

“Yep. Have to give out a few citations and the paper always shows up. Is my tie okay?”

Kurt sat up and smacked his lips. Blaine looked delicious. He straightened Blaine’s tie and smoothed it down his chest anyway because any opportunity to touch a man in uniform – this man in uniform especially – was an opportunity not to be missed. “Where’s your hat and jacket? I want to see the full picture.”

Blaine brushed Kurt’s cheek with his thumb and kissed him tenderly. “In living the room. Lay back down. You’re not supposed to be awake yet.”

“I’ll go back to sleep…let me see.”

When Blaine came back in, fully suited and smiling broadly, Kurt got out of bed, naked, cold and not giving a damn. This beautiful man needed to be in his arms right now. And so he made it so, stiff jacket, pokey badges, citation bars and all. Blaine was comfortable and cozy and warm and as they embraced, as Kurt’s head rested on his shoulder and his suited arms covered Kurt’s bare back, he could only sigh in pure contentment. Their every-few-nights-and-mornings had become a steady presence now, Kurt’s apartment turning into a love den of a constantly unmade bed, quickly prepared dinners and movie marathon numb buns.

They swayed to non-existent music for a long beat, Blaine stepping back a tick, his hand buried in Kurt’s sleep mussed hair. “What was that for?” He kissed him tenderly, dotting kisses up his jaw, nuzzling back into his neck before Kurt could pull him to sit on the edge of the bed and answer.

Kurt draped the blanket over his bare lap and fingered across the stripes on the edge of one of Blaine’s jacket sleeves, looking up through his lashes. “Five stripes, huh?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not used to that, yet. No one but the chief had stripes in Findley, so I went from nothing to this…it’s weird.”

“You should take great pride in those, Chief Anderson.”

“I do. I don’t take it lightly at all.” Blaine dipped his head to catch Kurt’s gaze, still tracing across each of the stripes on his sleeve. “What’s up?”

Kurt reached up and took Blaine’s hat off and plopped it on his own head, grinning. “I know you have to go, so my timing is shit, but…” He dared himself to rest in Blaine’s gaze, finding his words in the trust he found there. “…I am just immeasurably happy…in just…what? A couple weeks? I don’t…Blaine, I don’t… _do_ this. I’m closed off and…guarded and…careful. You’ve…” Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine’s softly for a little extra courage. “…you’ve ruined me. In the most delicious way.”

Blaine’s only reply was a whispered, “Oh god,” as he cupped Kurt’s cheek in his hand and kissed him fully, passionately, ignoring his hat as it toppled off Kurt’s head. He pulled back with a wet smack, chuckling when Kurt chased his mouth for more. “No, no…come on. Lay back down. Let me tuck you in.”

Kurt whined, but obeyed, sighing contentedly as his head sunk into the pillow and Blaine kissed his way up his body, covering the newly kissed skin with the blanket, Kurt sinking back into restfulness as he went. He knelt at the side of the bed holding Kurt’s hands, kissing his fingers as he spoke. “I am honored to be the one to make you immeasurably happy. And I don’t take that privilege lightly either.”

Kurt’s eyes were heavy, his smile lazier as Blaine spoke, but he heard it all, soaking it into his pores, letting his words lull him towards a peaceful sleep.

Blaine brushed Kurt’s rogue bangs off of his forehead and kissed his temple. “I love yo-…” He swallowed and started again. “I’d love to come back after my shift tonight…if you’ll have me.”

Kurt flickered his eyes open, smiling at Blaine’s shifting, blushing gaze. “Will you still be in full dress?”

“Would you like me to be?”

Kurt grinned. “Yes. I need to assist you in removing it.”

“That would make _me_ immeasurably happy.” He kissed Kurt’s temple one more time and stood. “But now I have to go. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be. Have a good day.” Mulling Blaine’s words around his groggy mind, Kurt made one more plea. “And Blaine?”

Blaine stopped by the door and looked back, fitting his hat back on his head, taking Kurt’s breath away all over again. “Me too.”

Blaine’s smile was all Kurt needed to breathe blissfully and fall into the deepest of peaceful sleeps.

***

It was only a few days later when Kurt was at the C-DRT offices desperately needing to head home to tend to his real job. New demands from his department head were not matching up with the budget he’d been given and he couldn’t focus on anything else anyway. “Dot, I’m going to take off.”

“Don’t forget those comfort kits for the truck.”

“Oh shit. Yeah.” Kurt tossed his bag back on the chair and picked up the phone to call the fire station. If he was going to be there to stock the truck, he might as well pop in for a ‘hello,’ maybe a give-me-some-sanity kiss. Blaine was really good at those.

“Lima City Fire Department. This is Lieutenant Parker.”

“Is Chief Anderson in, please?”

“No, he’s stepped out to pick up his son. He should be back in about half an hour.”

“P-pardon me?”

“Picking up his son?” Lt. Parker took an audible breath and asked, “…is this Kurt?”

“Yes.”

“Shit. Um. Yeah.” While the lieutenant fumbled, Kurt sunk into his chair, sitting on his bag, his skin burning from the inside out. “I’ll tell him you called and uh…he can call you back. Soon. Like in half an hour.”

“No. Don’t. Just. No. I’ll…I’ll…be in touch.”

Kurt put the phone in its cradle and pulled out his cell phone. He hit speed dial 7, and headed out to his car, mindlessly, vacantly, a fog settling over him as the words echoed in his ear over and over again.

_Picking up his son. His son. His. Son._

“Tess? It’s Kurt. I need a flight to New York. Tonight.”


	7. Chapter Six

“Kenmare Square, please.” Kurt threw his bag on the seat next to him and lazily used it as an armrest. The three Manhattans he had downed on the flight were hitting him like a speeding train, which worked out nicely. He was going for a fuck-I-can’t-feel-anything sentiment and once the plane landed, the alcohol started doing its job.

Unfortunately, the ache was still there. The anger. The confusion. The bitterness. The hostility. All still there, easing but somehow surviving under the liquid weight of the booze. Seeing the New York City skyline peek through the windshield of the cab didn’t even do its normal job of focusing his mind. Refreshing his heart.

Everything was muddy.

When the cab pulled up to his company apartment, his mind remained hazed as he fished through his wallet for the right credit card. “Does that say _Marc Jacobs International_ on it?”

“Yep.” The cabbie swiped the card and held up an electronic clipboard to sign. “Have a good night, sir.”

“Too late.”

Kurt slipped out of the car and wobbled into the building, stunned at how hard the drinks were hitting him. Why didn’t flight attendants remind stupid passengers that booze doesn’t intoxicate in the air? Why was the inside of the building still inside and he was still out in the humid, acrid night air?

“Hello, Mr. Hummel. You’re in 3B this weekend.” The receptionist handed him his room key and gathered her things to leave.

“Did I keep you late, Colleen?”

“Yep. But, my date cancelled anyway, so whatever.”

“Seems to be the theme tonight.”

To call the company apartments _home_ would be a stretch, but for now, for as long as he lived in Ohio, this was home in New York. A different studio every time he arrived, or at least one of three or four they seemed to rotate him through. It wasn’t bad. They were bigger than anything he could afford and he never had to bother cleaning – always a plus. For the moment, his only concern was whether they’d stocked the refrigerator like he’d asked.

And they had. After tossing his jacket, he poured himself a rum and coke going particularly heavy on the rum. He loosened his tie and top few buttons, kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants, kicking them across the wooden floor. Then he almost dropped his drink chasing them across the floor before they crashed into something hard. His phone was still in the pocket.

He turned on the TV, filling the room with mindless noise and clumsily pulled the bed back, grabbing extra pillows from the closet. Drink, noise, comfort and phone. He powered his phone on and took a few pulls from his drink as the missed messages loaded. And loaded. And fucking loaded.

He’d been in the airport for a total of four hours, keeping his phone off to wallow in his emotions. The flight was only two hours long and there were 15 voice messages and 31 texts. They would wait until morning. Instead, he made a call.

“I thought people in Ohio were in bed by 10pm.”

“I’m not in Ohio. I get a longer curfew.”

“You here?”

“I am.”

“Is this call to report your location or to beckon me like I had nothing better to do with my night?”

“I’m sure as shit not begging you, Mitchell. Do what you want.”

“What number?”

“3B. Bring take out. I’m drunk. And still drinking.”

“What kind?”

“Edible. Greasy.”

“Give me 20.”

Kurt tossed his phone on the small table and sunk into the bed to stare at the ceiling that was, interestingly enough, spinning. His phone buzzed and he grabbed at it absent-mindedly.

_Blaine [7-21-23 12:16] Again. I’m sorry. I couldn’t end the day without saying good night. Even if you’re not listening._

“Jesus fuck. He’s still polite.”

***

Kurt peeled one eye open and shut it immediately, the pain of a thousand knives slicing through his head superseded only by the crashing wave of nausea that coursed through his gut. He swallowed the nausea down and tried opening an eye again, focusing on an empty rum bottle, one chopstick and a used condom on his bedside table. “Fuck.”

He flopped onto his back, taking his agony with him. His hand landed on a piece of paper where he thought, although he couldn’t be sure, Mitchell had been laying earlier.

He fought back another wave of nausea and brought the paper close to his face.

_Next time you need to work out an anger issue, do it in someone else’s ass. I left you a bagel on the counter. –M_

The combined message of food and shame sent him over the edge. He made a bee line for the toilet emptying his stomach, and with the force of it all, Kurt hoped, the misery he’d been carrying around for the past 18 hours.

“Kurt? Are you…oh Jesus.” Mitchell dug in the linen closet for a washcloth and quickly wet it, catching Kurt as he sat back from his final wave of sick.

“I thought you left.” Kurt wiped at his mouth and avoided Mitchell’s eyes, judgment, whatever emotion he might find there.

“I was on my way out and heard you.” He wiped Kurt’s brow and neck and flushed the toilet, joining Kurt on the floor. “What the hell is going on? I’ve never seen you do this before.”

“Just go. You’ll be late for your shoot.”

“Models are always late; the photographer can be late, too. It’s in the handbook.”

“Did I drink that whole bottle?”

“No. Almost. You were drunk when I got here, Kurt. And can I say? It does not suit you.”

“Fuck off.”

“Who _are_ you right now? And who the hell is this Brock dude that after just a few weeks you’d completely fall apart?”

“Blaine, Ass. His name is Blaine. And you wouldn’t understand. You’ve never opened yourself up to anybody.”

“No. Because I’m not into vomiting my feelings and sitting naked on cold tile floors. Why don’t you just call him and get the story?”

“Because no story fixes it, Mitchell.” Kurt pointed to the wall. “Hand me a towel so I can have a little dignity.”

Mitchell got up and yanked down a towel hooked on the wall, tossing it to Kurt, shaking his head as Kurt covered his bottom half. “As I see it, your attempts to fix it have landed you with one hellacious hangover and my dried come on your stomach. I’m not seeing how it’s working for you.”

“I believe I said fuck off _and_ leave. Why don’t you take care of those things, huh?”

“Are you done retching?”

“I think so.”

“How long are you going to be in the city?”

“Couple days? Budget crap cropped up, so I might as well deal with it while I’m here.”

“I’m not coming back, Kurt.”

“Probably a good idea.” Kurt watched Mitchell stand and averted his eyes again, the visible pity more than he could bear. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not doing this with you again. Comfort fucks are one thing, but…you’re better than this.” Kurt lifted his gaze, his eyes sunken and bitter. “I’m serious. You need someone real, not convenient and I have a feeling _real_ is waiting in Ohio.”

“With a fucking child.”

“Oh, get over it.” Mitchell started out and stopped, looking back one more time. “Do you need help up?”

“No.”

“Fine. I’m out.”

Kurt waited until he heard the door close and gathered his strength to pull himself up. He relieved himself and stumbled back to bed face first, heart splayed, head throbbing.

***

Kurt woke to the incessant buzzing of his phone, this time with a little less pain and a lot more cotton mouth. He slammed his hand around the bedside table, first landing on the used condom. “For the love…”

He finally found his phone and sat up, his body still aching, his vision still cloudy from sleep and stupid decisions.

_Dot [07-21-23 10:30]: I’m officially panicked, Kurt. We have a fire. You’re nowhere to be found. Answer me or I swear I’m calling the cops._

Kurt smacked his lips and chucked the phone long enough to brush his teeth and grab the bagel, ignoring the minty dough-y-ness of the combination. It had to be better than vomity dough-y-ness.

_Kurt [07-21-23 10:32] Don’t call the cops. I’m in New York. I’m sorry._

_Dot [07-21-23 10:33] Jesus, Kurt. Don’t do that to me again. I’m too close to heaven to play games._

_Kurt [07-21-23 10:33] Who said you’re going to heaven?_

_Dot [07-21-23 10:34] Let me get a team together since you’re not here. I’m calling in 30 minutes. Answer when I do._

Kurt showered quickly and got dressed for work, feeling a little better, a little more in control, a little more like himself. Maybe a quick break, a quick fuck-you-very-much was all that was needed. He’d only known the guy a few weeks. Surely finding out Blaine was a lying sack of shit would be enough to make him forget he had been falling in love with him the entire time.

As he adjusted the pocket square in his jacket, Dot called, exactly 30 minutes after her previous text.

“Hey, Dot. Listen, I am so sorry.”

“…me that this has to do with Chief Anderson. He called yesterday, audibly upset.”

“It does, but it won’t affect my work, Dot.”

“It already has. There’s a fire. You’re in New York and I had to put a team together for you.”

“How many times do I need to apologize before you stop reminding me that I fucked up?”

“A few more, so just deal with it. What happened?”

“He has a son.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve lost me already.”

“I need to go to work. If this needs an explanation, it can wait until I get back in town.”

“Aaaaaand you hate children.” Dot sighed and Kurt rolled his eyes. “Really, Kurt? You’d honestly make this a deal breaker?”

“Yes, I would. I do not date dads. It’s just…it’s my line in the sand.”

“Sand shifts, Kurt. And you owe him an explanation. He was a mess on the phone.”

“Well, he can fucking wait a few days. It’s the only card I have right now.”

“You need a new deck. When will you be back, so I can notify dispatch?”

“Monday. Put me back on call Tuesday. And…I really am sorry. I just…took off. I didn’t think.”

“Forget it.”

“Is the fire in Lima City?”

“Ah-ha! See? You still care.”

“I never claimed otherwise. I wouldn’t be running if I didn’t give a damn.” Dot hummed in judgment and Kurt sighed at himself, still needing to know. “So, is it Lima City?”

“No, it’s clear out in Auglaize Township. He’s safe at home. Oh, and about eight of your voice mails are from me, so just delete them. I’m sure I sound like a raging lunatic.”

“That’s because you are. I need to head out, Dot.”

“I think he loves you, Kurt.”

“Goodbye, Dot.”

***

On his last night in New York, Kurt checked all of his messages from the flight over and since. A frightening number were from Dot, holy crap the woman was persistent. Two voice mails were from Blaine and hearing his voice sent shivers up Kurt’s spine. His voice shook in controlled anxiety, deep with shame and apology. He offered no excuse, just pleas to see him. To explain. The text messages were few and curt – making sure he’d received the phone messages and another _good night_ text the previous night that Kurt had somehow missed. And then one more, sent as he was scanning all the others.

_Blaine [07-23-23 11:46]: Going to bed, still thinking of you. Good night, Kurt._

Kurt brushed a finger over the words and sighed, turning the phone to its side to type a reply.

_Kurt [07-23-23 23:47]: Good night, Blaine._

_Blaine [07-23-23 11:47]: Kurt? Are you there?_

***

By the time he was headed back to JFK to fly home, Kurt had regained his confidence, his stride, maybe even a sliver of his grace. Once he got home, he drove directly to his dad’s house irritated that in all of this mess, he’d neglected his visits. Neglected what really mattered. Neglected his whole reason for being in Ohio in the first place, too busy fooling around with this man who had melted his brain and his common sense.

Blaine had floated in and, with great skill and aplomb, gloriously screwed everything up.

“Well, there’s my son! It’s been months. What’s a dad have to do to get a visit, huh? Too big of a New York hot shot to bother?”

Kurt bent down for a hug and eyed Carole as she grabbed the calendar they used every day to help Burt keep track of time.

“Now, Burt…look here.” She laid the dog eared pages on her husband’s lap as Kurt sat on an ottoman shared with his dad’s feet. “Here’s today…”

“…and here’s Kurt’s name. So, it’s been…eight days. What did I say?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dad. It’s been too long and I’m here now.”

“That you are. How’s New York? Have you dressed every man there yet?”

“Not quite, no. How are you feeling?”

“Same as always. Finn won’t let me in the shop anymore. He says I’m too loud and I scare the customers.”

“Wh-…?” Kurt shot a look up to Carole.

“He got a little lippy with a Mr. Phelps the other day.”

“Tom Phelps is a jackass and it’s about time someone told him.”

“Maybe he likes being a jackass, Dad. He has been ever since we’ve known him.” Burt grumbled and took a labored breath, his lungs congested and rattled. Kurt scooted off the ottoman and looked at his dad’s ankles, pressing his thumb against the flesh and sighing when it left an indent. “Carole, what’s his blood pressure been?”

“A little high – 150’s over low 100’s.”

“Okay, he’s pitting, see?” He squeezed again and Burt yanked his leg back.

“Do you _mind?_ Also, I can hear you know. Don’t talk over me like I’m not here.”

“Sorry, Dad. I’m worried about your breathing and swelling, okay? I want Carole to call the cardiologist tomorrow.”

“The cardiologist is an asshat.”

“You don’t like very many people lately, do you?”

Burt looked up at his son and smiled meekly, opening an arm up for him to come snuggle which Kurt did in an instant. “I like _you_.”

“I like you too.”

“I just want to go outside. Breathe in some fresh air. I’m sick of being in this house. But…I get too tired.”

“Would you go out if we got you a wheelchair?”

“Like some sort of invalid?”

“No, like a man who’s having trouble with his heart, but still wants to be outside sometimes.”

Burt kissed the top of Kurt’s head and in an instant, he was 10 years old again. Or 12. Or maybe 16. He was young and it was just the two of them, fighting through life, stumbling and twisting, catching each other, landing in a heap on the couch with only their love and their lack of knowing what the hell they were doing holding them together. Single fatherhood hadn’t been easy for Burt, but he’d done it with grace and style and beautiful human flaw.

Kurt leaned in closer and squeezed his eyes shut in humiliation of his most recent actions – they were not the actions of someone raised by this great man.

This withering, deteriorating man.

“I might consider a wheelchair.”

Kurt and Carole shared a glance and it was understood. One call to the cardiologist and one wheelchair were now on the agenda for the next day. But now, Kurt had one more reason for visiting.

“Carole, can I speak to you privately?”

***

“Can I confess something to you, Kurt?”

“Of course.” He and Carole had been sitting at the kitchen table for quite some time, Burt napping peacefully in the other room. Kurt dumped everything about his past few weeks, not necessarily looking for advice as much as for someone who would love him even if he was being a jackass. No judgments. No lectures. Just a listening ear so he could sort it all out.

“I didn’t want _either_ son that I have. I had a line in the sand too.”

“Ouch.”

Carole smiled and squeezed Kurt’s hand. “Here’s the truth. I wanted sex more than I didn’t and I wanted to avoid an abortion more than I wanted to have a kid. So, Finn was born. It’s that romantic. But now? Can any of us imagine our lives without him in it?”

“No. And don’t ever talk to me about your having sex again.”

“Talk is all I get anymore, so deal with it Mister I’m-in-love-with-him-after-just-one-date.”

“You’re supposed to be making me feel better, Carole. Besides, it was five dates. Sort of. I’m not a troll.”

“And then there was you. I had already raised a son. Alone. I did okay by him, I think. But no. This man shows up – introduced by none other than his obnoxiously fabulous son. I didn’t date men with kids. I had my own. I wasn’t going to deal with anyone else’s. Period. Line drawn. Next candidate, please.”

“I’m…sorry?”

“Don’t you ever apologize for bringing us together, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt had the decency to blush.

“So, again I was faced with wanting Burt more than I didn’t want you. And Kurt? Love? I didn’t want you…another son…another responsibility. I just wanted your dad _more_.”

“And what would our lives have been had you not chosen that?”

“Exactly. Now, I’m not telling you that you have to go be with Blaine. I mean, you have to go make it right with Blaine in a human-caring way. You can’t end it by running away to New York. That’s not who you are. What I’m saying is, sand shifts, Kurt. You can draw all the lines in it you want, but when the tide rolls in, you’re never going to draw them in the same exact place again.”

Kurt’s heart fluttered hearing Dot’s words repeated back to him. _Sand shifts, Kurt._

“What if I draw them in a different place, but Blaine’s still on the other side of the line?”

“Then you say goodbye and thank him for the lovely time. Isn’t there a song in _Wicked_ that talks about being a better person because you knew someone special?

“For Good. _But because I knew you, I have been changed for good._ It’s one of my favorites.”

“Yes. And this just might be one of those encounters. But, Kurt. I’ve never seen you like this. I’ve never known you to run. I’ve never known you to avoid a challenge. And…” Her eyes sparkled with orneriness. “…I’ve never known you to walk away from a beautiful boy without giving it your best shot.”

Kurt blushed and smiled, his chin resting on his fist as she spoke. “I love you, Carole.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. And I’m so glad I loved your dad more.”

“I am too.” He sat back and took a deep breath, unsure of his next step, but knowing it would never be decided sitting here. He had to go home. He had to face the bed, still unmade from lovemaking the morning he hastily left, Blaine’s toothbrush in his bathroom, his extra electric razor tangling cords with Kurt’s in his top bathroom drawer, the box of condoms still sitting on the nightstand because why bother putting them away when you were constantly digging in it for more.

If Blaine really meant to him what he’d been projecting to everyone else, then it was time to face it. It was time to deal with this like the man his father had raised him to be.


	8. Chapter Seven

The problem, Kurt found, with planning an action and then waiting before being able to follow through on that plan was the awful lag between the two. The lag time became a playground for his inner dialogue to take journeys into waters he thought he had already mastered. The questions, the doubts, the self-flagellation for being so vulnerable, And the anger, dear god the anger, all came crashing into his steely resolve. His plan to listen. To forgive. To understand.

So, by the time he got to the office, he had twisted back into a silent rage – seething, impatient and thoroughly unpleasant to be around. He’d already snapped at Dot and been short with a potential CPR student on the phone. If Dot hadn’t needed him, he’d have gone home to take out his aggressions on uncooperative fabric manufacturers and design directors. He was never sure of their humanity anyway, so a little abuse could be rewarding.

“…was completely screwed up on this fire Saturday, so we’re doing another training. I need copies of all of the forms – 25 of each. Can you manage that without biting someone’s head off?”

Kurt looked up from his computer. “Yes. Dot. I think I can handle being your Girl Friday without blistering our image.”

“You know, I’m sorry things ended up this way, Kurt. But if you ask me…”

“Which I didn’t.”

“…you’re being unreasonable. And frankly, your attitude is concerning me. If we have a fire…”

“I’ll be polite and professional. I’m not an idiot. I’m just…” Kurt started digging through his files for the paperwork to begin the tedious copying process. “…I don’t know how to approach this. And I have to approach it.” He tossed the documents on his desk and sighed, easing when he saw the concern in Dot’s eyes. “He might have gloriously screwed up, but I left town. Even if I wanted to stick with this, it’s clear we’re both too stupid to make it work.”

“That’s quite possible. You’re both pretty dumb. Oh, did I tell you? I met his son. He’s darli-.”

“Stop. I don’t want any editorials on this child. I need to talk to Blaine first before I get my emotions all wrapped up in it.”

“Honey, it’s too late for that. Your emotions were shot the moment you laid eyes on him.”

“Stop reminding me. Do I need to schedule meeting space for this training?”

“Yeah, the firehouse was perfect.”

Kurt chuffed. “Of course it was.”

Dot left to run errands and Kurt grabbed the paperwork and headed down the narrow hall to the copier. At least he could drown in the white noise of the machine, not able to hear the phone or really much of anything.

Like someone coming in.

Someone like Blaine.

He did, however, feel his presence immediately – so immediately that he didn’t have time to put on his proper bitch face. Instead, he rolled his eyes and looked away, saying nothing.

“Hi.”

Kurt lifted his head in acknowledgement and said nothing, pretending to be enthralled with the digital command center of the copy machine.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I’m here to ask you to at least listen.”

“Not here. Not now.”

“You’re not even going to look at me?”

Kurt took a breath and fixed his face firm, turning to aim his eyes at Blaine, because actually _looking_ at him? Not an option. He’d crumble. “Not here. Not now.” And then he turned back to the copier.

“Fine. Where and when? This has gone on too long.”

“It wouldn’t have _gone on_ at all had you just been honest with me from the beginning now, would it?”

“But, I wasn’t. I’m trying to make it right.”

Kurt slammed the stack of papers in his hand on the top of the machine, the crack echoing through the skinny hallway, jolting Blaine out of his firm stance. Finally, finally Kurt looked at Blaine – really looked, scowling, searing holes into his skin. “When exactly were you planning on telling me, Blaine?”

Blaine could only sputter.

“And, I just have to ask…where the hell were you keeping him, huh? Did you lock him up in a cage?”

“He’s…he’s been at his grandmothers’. They kept him so I could get moved and get his room set up and…and work extra hours so I could get to know my crew. And I’m sor-…”

“And have a little play thing on the side while you had some free time?”

Blaine gasped and took the length of the hallway toward Kurt in quick, long steps. “Kurt! No! Is that what you thi-…is that what you think of me? Of us?” He reached out to touch Kurt’s arm, to bring him face to face, but Kurt stiffened shooting a glare of warning.

“Don’t! Touch me.” Kurt held his stance until Blaine backed up a step.

“Kurt, please. You can’t believe…I would never…why would you _think_ such a thing?”

“I don’t know what to think, Blaine. Everything you said sort of rearranged itself when I learned the truth.” Kurt tried to busy himself with the task of copying, fumbling with the controls, anything, but his ability to focus or concentrate was completely lost. Dot was right; his emotions were already completely wrapped up, twisted, tangled and slowly – fraying.

“There is no reason…Kurt…” Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, utter frustration heating up the tight hallway. “For the love of god, would you at _look_ at me?” Kurt dared to side-eye him, his resolve diffusing a hair’s breadth when he saw the pain, the anguish in Blaine’s eyes. “Nothing. Nothing I said to you, nothing I _feel_ about you changes because I have a son. Not a word. Not a moment.”

“Maybe it does for me…”

“Then _you_ have to work that out, but for me – there was not…look.” Blaine sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, daring to take a step closer again, but stopping short when he got another warning glare. “I didn’t come to Lima looking for a partner. This move was huge enough. I didn’t want one. I wasn’t interested in dating, none of it. But then…there you were. You were just doing your job, but the moment you grabbed my wrist and looked at me…and _saw_ me…I realized…Kurt, I’ve been looking for you forever.”

Kurt looked away and changed documents in the copier, pushing the right button, grateful for the white noise that drowned out the voices in his head telling him 10,000 confusing tales. “Well, here’s some advice, Blaine. When you find someone like that again? Because I’m sure you will…I suggest you opt for full disclosure up front. He’ll appreciate it.”

“Are you _hearing_ me? I never meant to hurt you!”

“What did you think keeping something like that from me would do, Blaine!?”

“I have no idea, Kurt. I clearly don’t know what I’m doing. I just…please meet with me. So I can explain. So maybe you can understand.”

“What can be said that will change anything?” Kurt leaned back against the counter as the copier ran, arms crossed tightly, legs crossed at the ankles – closed off but for the strained conversation. “Blaine, here’s the thing.” He sighed at Blaine’s pleading gaze, his rage dissipating into simple irritation. “I…don’t like children. I don’t _want_ children. I border on hating children. I will not. I do not. I _refuse_ to date dads. Period.”

Blaine’s face fell, his shoulders fell, his entire stance fell. When he dared look up again, their eyes met, the sadness in Kurt’s matching his own. “Okay. You’re right. Nothing I say will change that. But, I don’t want you to resent me. I want you to know, without question, that you matter to me. I know I royally fucked it up. I just want you to know my story.”

Blaine closed the space between them and finally touched, grasping Kurt’s forearm. Kurt squeezed his eyes closed but put his hand over Blaine’s, unable to speak, grateful when Blaine continued. “Please let me explain.”

They stood there for long moments, Kurt mulling his decision, catching desperate glances, tears threatening, the copier stopping its work, leaving them in heavy silence.

“Can you get a sitter tonight?”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s arm and pulled free reaching into his back pocket for his phone. “I already have one.”

“Over confident?”

“Prepared.”

Kurt couldn’t fight the smile, the staid chief shining through the heart of Blaine. “You know the place up on North Main? Breadstix?”

“I’ve driven by it…6 o’clock?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“I can pick you up…”

“This isn’t a date, Blaine. I’ll meet you.”

Blaine nodded and typed the appointment in his phone while Kurt flipped documents, starting the copier again, sorting the stacks he’d already printed. He had to cut this off or he was going to do something he’d regret.

Like kiss him. Which was what had started this whole mess to begin with.

“So. Tonight.” Blaine lingered and Kurt kept working, dismissing him with his silence. “I’ll…yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Blaine. I’m agreeing to listen. Period.”

“And I’m grateful. So, thank you.”

***

Kurt arrived at the restaurant first and snagged a booth in the corner before the dinner rush made prime seating an impossibility. He ordered water with lemon for himself, a water with two lemons and an extra for Blaine. And then he rolled his eyes at himself that he knew what Blaine would order, that minuscule details of Blaine’s persona were already infused with his own.

Once Blaine arrived they small talked about the weather, the restaurant, the tedium of their days and they finally placed their orders, both fidgety and shifty-eyed.

And then, without warning, Blaine started. “Why did you run?”

Kurt swallowed the water he’d be drinking and paused. “I thought I was here to listen tonight.”

“It’s easier to ask questions than give answers. I thought I’d sneak in first while I could.”

Kurt nodded and mulled his words carefully, not that he didn’t have an answer, but that he just wasn’t sure how to tackle this evening at all, no less his fault in the whole debacle. “Can I tell you a story?”

“If it answers my question.”

“It does.”

“I’m listening.”

“You see…I met this guy. He was…the ying to my yang. This guy…our chemistry was so hot that I took his pants off less than 30 minutes after meeting him.”

Blaine laughed. “Is that why I… _he_ …almost passed out? Chemistry?”

“That’s my story and I’d stick with it if I were yo-…him. Saves a ton of embarrassment later on.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I’m going to rant…in a really cheesy way, by the way.”

“I’m still listening.”

“Seriously, I don’t do this often, so you need to enjoy this while you can.”

“I’m listening. You’re dawdling.”

Blaine’s easy smile would have tripped him up if he allowed it. Instead, Kurt opted for another swig of water and a silent prayer to whomever might be listening. “Right. So, this guy…and I. Me. We. We jumped into a sweeping affair. It was glorious. It was _please stay the night_ and _let’s go dancing_ and _come over and nap with me_. It was peach milkshakes and _come back safe_ when he’d have to go put out fires. Real fires. With real people. A living, breathing hero.”

Kurt paused to gather more thoughts and a sip of water trying desperately not to get taken in again with Blaine’s earnest, hopeful, pleading eyes _._ Eyes that had just ducked away from his gaze.

“We danced in our underwear and texted about hundred year old cartoons and he’d come running when he’d get pleas of _if you don’t save me from the stress of my job I’m going to jump in front of a bus_ …that is, if he wasn’t busy saving someone else, which he sometimes was. Which was really hot.

“I hadn’t felt that way about someone since high school.” Kurt stopped to catch his breath, to take in this man before him that had loved him so completely and then hurt him so deeply, all within a matter of weeks. “I was looking ahead at my life, and…he was there. All the way. That fast.”

“Oh god, Kurt…”

Kurt closed his eyes and lifted his hand to stop Blaine from speaking another word. “Every minute of every day, I felt warm like I was wrapped in blankets and love…even when I was just walking down the street or threading a needle or sketching a sleeve. I lived in a constant state of bliss.

“And then, someone came along and yanked the blankets right off of me. And instead of lying in a warm bed, I was sinking into a steaming vat of _shit_. And the worst part? The person who pulled the blankets off and was holding them over my head?”

Blaine’s head was bowed, his eyes closed, this breath snatched like the blankets of Kurt’s story. “Was me.”

“Yes, you. Laughing at my stupidity. At my vulnerability and naiveté. I felt played, Blaine. And betrayed and taken advantage of…like I was the child.”

“But, I didn’t…Kurt I’ve told you…”

Kurt put his hand up. “I know. I’m…trying…to know, but _that’s_ where I was when I ran. When I hung up the phone. I didn’t _really_ know you. For all I knew, your sincerity and bullshit really _did_ live close together. Maybe you played political games in your personal life as well as your professional one. I really didn’t know; I just blindly trusted. What I did know and believe felt like it had just been ripped and shredded right in front of me _._ ”

“Do you still believe that? That I betrayed you? Because, I screwed up, I did, but Kurt…I felt all those things, too. All of it. I’ve never been so wrapped up, so fast.”

“I don’t know. Like I said…I’m trying. Because no one should be _that_ good of an actor.”

“I’m…sorry. I just…” Blaine looked up, eyes wet and pleading. “You have to believe me, Kurt.”

“I’m trying, Blaine. But that’s why. That’s why I ran. Why I did stupid, _stupid_ things in New York because, you know, just running and not talking to you first wasn’t stupid enough.”

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” Kurt thought for a beat and sighed. “Although if we’re going to be laying it all out on the table, maybe you should.”

“Maybe I should.”

“Shit.” Kurt fidgeted again, debating the wisdom of coming clean. And feeling dirty in the process. “I hooked up with an old friend while I was there.”

Anger flared in Blaine’s eyes and he sat back, disconnecting from the conversation while the waitress set their appetizers in front of them, more perky than either had the patience for. “This weekend? Is he just someone you have hanging around the fringes for when you get pissy?”

“Pissy? Isn’t that a bit reductive?”

“I’m not always fair when I’m the one feeling betrayed.”

 _Shit._ “Fair enough. And no…he’s a friend. Who I have slept with a couple of times when our lives turn to shit. He cut that off this weekend because apparently, he thinks I’m better than that.”

“Are you?” Blaine’s caramel eyes seemed to turn to a fiery amber and Kurt swore he felt the heat of it.

“Yes Blaine, I am. And I hate what I did. I just wanted you to hurt like I did.”

“Congratulations. You just succeeded.”

“Yay.”


	9. Chapter Eight

They’d been picking at their appetizer, the emotions swirling between them squelching any appetite they might have brought with them. Now, it sat virtually uneaten in their less than companionable silence and Kurt was ready to scream.

“Blaine, I’m sorry. I didn’t think there would ever be an _us_ to come home to, so I just tossed everything away. If it’s any consolation, I tossed my take out and the entire bottle of booze with a raging vomiting fit in the morning. Apparently, shame makes me puke.”

“Good.” But, Blaine’s face softened and he finally reached out and popped a piece of calamari in his mouth. “I just worry that this is how you handle difficulties all the time because if so, maybe there really isn’t anything worth talking about.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t run. I might pout and puss and rage, but I don’t run. And I’m sorry I ran. I didn’t give you the opportunity to explain before I lost my shit. And I owed you that…at the very least.”

“I owed you the truth from the beginning.”

“You did. So, why didn’t you just _tell_ me??”

“Can I go back further? I promise I’ll answer that question, but…”

“I told you I came here to listen.”

The smiles shared were sad and contrite, but Kurt figured, at least they were smiles. And then, at the same time, “I’m so sorry,” stretched across the table and they could move forward. Slowly, please, but forward.

“Can I start by showing you his picture?”

“No.” He reached out to Blaine’s hand when pain flashed through his eyes. Pain he was seeing too often. So far, even with apologies, this conversation was mostly awful. “Not yet. I might not _like_ kids, but I’m not a machine. I can be swayed by the cute and I believe Dot’s word for him was… _darling_.”

“He is.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand before letting go and scooping up a few calamari onto his appetizer plate. “So, can you save the picture? For now?”

“Fair enough. So. My brother, Cooper. He had a friend that was always hanging around our house. I honestly don’t really have memory of her not being a part of our lives. He met Maggie in elementary school, probably before I was born. She was just a fixture in our lives. A cute, freckle-faced crazy fixture. She’d help Coop babysit me and when Coop was busy, she’d do it. We built forts, climbed trees, hunted for frogs’ eggs in a creek by our house…we just had great adventures.”

Blaine sat up, excited at some of his memories. “You remember the movie _Up_?”

“Of course…one of my favorites.”

“Ellie? The wife? Maggie. Without the frizz. She was just wide-eyed, freckle-faced, fun and silly and as a little boy, I thought all girls would be just like her. Always looking for a _grand adventure_ , filling a scrap book full of memories and dreams.”

“I might have liked girls if more of them were like Ellie…Maggie…”

Blaine snickered and continued, sneaking a few more calamari. “These are average, aren’t they?”

“At best. But, I’m suddenly starving, so I don’t care.”

“So, yes. Most girls weren’t like Maggie, but that was okay, because we had Maggie and as far as I was concerned, I didn’t need any other girls. Cooper didn’t agree. But, when he’d venture off dating this girl or that girl, Maggie stuck around anyway. He even tried dating her but I believe his words after that night were _fucking_ and _disaster_.”

“Never date your sister.”

“Exactly. So, Coop went off to college and Mags stayed here, went to University of Findlay and I stumbled through adolescence like the pimple-faced gay kid I was. But she was always there. When I was beat up after a dance at school, she and Coop were there. She helped me find the words to come out to my dad and she held me when I fell apart afterwards. She was there when I graduated from the Academy and was present for every citation, every promotion…more than my parents were, more than Cooper could be.” Blaine finally took a breath, grateful when the waitress came with their meals, although talking all of this out just might kill his appetite again. “She became _my_ best friend instead of Cooper’s.”

“He never moved back home after school?”

“No. He and dad…it wasn’t good. Dad’s…well. Let’s just say you’re really, really lucky.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Eh, I’ve learned to accept him as he is even if he can’t return the favor. Saves a lot of grief.” He swirled pasta onto his fork and slurped it up, chuckling with Kurt as they both failed the graceful eating test. “It’s probably good this isn’t a date. I’m a slob.”

Kurt motioned to a spot on his lip and Blaine licked out to scoop up the rogue sauce. “So…Maggie.”

“Maggie. I’m rambling. The best thing about Maggie was how desperately she wanted to be a mom. The worst thing about Maggie…”

“…was how desperately she wanted to be a mom?”

“She would date…god, she was a serial dater. If he had a dick and was into girls, she’d go for it, testing him out to see if he was dad material. It was awful to watch, especially as I got older and could figure out what the hell she was doing. Fortunately, before she really ruined her life, she gave up the dating game and decided to have a kid on her own. She was…god, our age now, I guess. Approaching 30 and the cliché biological clock was ticking. She went completely insane with researching artificial insemination and sperm banks and adoption and alternative means. She was obsessed.”

“So, you volunteered.”

“Eventually. She decided on artificial and was going to go to a sperm bank. Complete stranger. Questionable medical history – or questionable access to it. It just didn’t seem right to me. Too risky. Cooper thought I’d lost my mind, going on and on about legal entanglements and everything, so. We hired a lawyer, made my dad go completely gray with the humiliation it would bring our family which oddly? Made me want to do it even more.”

Kurt laughed and pointed to Blaine’s full plate. “Honey, eat. We can talk after we’re done.”

“No. I want…I need to do this.” He snuck a bite in and continued. “We drew up the papers and I was going to be The Father. Not The Dad. I wasn’t going to really have much to do with the raising of the baby. Just…a family friend sort of thing? See, here’s the thing, Kurt. I never wanted to be a dad either.”

“But you loved Maggie more.”

“Yes. I wasn’t there for the birth. I paid no medical expenses. I was literally the sperm donor…except she knew me and it seemed…safer.”

“I have to ask…”

“Artificial, babe. I loved Maggie, but there was no way in hell…”

“There’s love and then there’s _love_ …”

“And my love for Maggie was never romantic. So many people didn’t understand that – like if we stayed close I’d somehow turn straight or because she was so amazing, I’d change my mind.”

“Ignorance is ugly.”

“And Maggie was beautiful. Adrian…” He stopped, realizing Kurt knew nothing, absolutely nothing about his son. “His name is Adrian. And he turned five in May. And he has the best mom this planet has ever offered a boy. She was made to be a mother. Helping her do that was the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Kurt had already finished his meal by the time Blaine was done talking, setting his plate to the side to wait for a take home box. He had started putting 2 and 2 together. Blaine was speaking in past tense and if this woman was the perfect mom Blaine was making her out to be. If she fell into the role so perfectly…

“I’m only coming up with one reason why she’s not involved anymore and it’s not a pretty one.”

Blaine sighed, sadness taking over the whole of his body as though he’d been holding it in since the first time he’d met Kurt. As though the sadness he had over Kurt’s taking off, over Kurt’s brief infidelity, over Kurt’s accusations were only a prologue to the true sadness he carried around from day to day. And it was.

“Ovarian cancer. She died this past October.”

***

“Will this be one check or two?”

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two, please.” Kurt blinked through the tears he was fighting off and tried to give Blaine a stern look. “Not a date. Please.”

Blaine lifted his hands in surrender and kept his eyes down until the waitress left, boxing up his mostly uneaten meal. “I’m sorry. I asked you to come; I feel I should pay.”

“You’re still too polite. And I am the biggest raging asshole that was ever born.”

“No. You’re not. How could you know? I guess what I want you to get out of it all is that…I didn’t want this either, Kurt. I didn’t want to be a dad. But, here I am and I don’t know how to date like this. Guys would bolt when they found out I’d fathered a child and that was before she was even sick, before I carried around the _dad role,_ so now? I’m just…I never expected to find you and when I did? I panicked. I just went for the ride and hoped I’d figure it out when it was time.”

The issues, the pain, the running and the arguing had suddenly boiled down to one thing: Blaine was a father. And, Kurt was desperately in love with him. He was also desperately in _not like_ with children. It was, to put it mildly, a problem.

But right now, he needed to get out of the restaurant. It was stifling. Decisions weren’t going to be made this night anyway.

“Do you want to go to the park?”

“Sure. You’ll need to drive or give me directions – it’s up in Bath Township, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’ll drive.” They headed out and got in Kurt’s car, sharing a look and shy smiles. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. She sounds…amazing.”

“She really was.”

“So,” Kurt started the car and they picked up where they left off. “…are you his legal guardian now or what? How does that work with what you had drawn up at his birth?”

“I was always on the birth certificate, so that wasn’t an issue, but when her health got to the point of _we’ve done all we can_ , we got the attorneys to write up everything again and I’d get custody too.”

“Did she ask, or did you offer?”

“I offered. She fought it for awhile knowing how I felt, but the other options just weren’t great. Her parents are a great help – always have been, but she was adamant that they’d not raise their grandchildren and I agreed. I know it works sometimes, but it just seemed ridiculous.”

“No siblings?”

“A younger sister who has an affinity for heroin.”

“Holy shit…well, that wasn’t going to work.”

“No. And Cooper considered for awhile, but he just couldn’t do it. As close I was to Maggie, I think he was even more emotionally attached. I thought I was going to have to medicate him to get through the funeral.”

“So, this is going to sound really judgmental and I don’t mean it to, but…this is still new. Why move? Why upset Adrian’s life even more?”

“I actually moved for more stability. A 9-5 job is easier since I’m going it alone. I mean, I could have taken desk job with Findlay and I considered it, but I’m a firefighter because I like fighting fires. I like being out there and talking to people. I like being a first responder. I’ve wanted this since I was 10 and I didn’t think giving that up would be doing Adrian any favors either.”

“No, it wouldn’t. And I’m going to skip over the obvious point that our conversation when we first met…when you told me why you moved…would have been the perfect time to fill.me.in.”

“I know. I know, I know, I know. But Kurt…I guess after the experiences before Maggie got sick – how guys acted like I had the fucking plague – I thought maybe this time I’d fess up _after_ I knew he was in. And you’re going to laugh, but I was going to tell you that night. I really was. I had a sitter and everything.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow as they pulled into the parking lot and found a spot near a paved trail.

"Pardon my cynicism but that was only because Grandma brought him home and you’d run out of options, don’t you think?"

"No." Kurt just waited for honesty to catch up with Blaine’s knee-jerk response. "Okay, probably."

“Not one of your smartest decisions, Chief Anderson.”

“No. And I’ll apologize until you believe it.”

“I believe it. I don’t like it. But you don’t have to apologize anymore. And I’ll try not to bring it up again, because it really doesn’t change anything at this point.” They got out and stretched, meeting on the path and journeying into the woods, relaxing with each step, grateful for a relatively cool night. “I’ve never seen you sad. Or…in a state of grief. How do you…why do you keep that hidden?”

“I save it for when I’m alone. It was a conscious decision so Adrian wouldn’t see it and I guess…it’s just how I’ve come to deal with it.”

“I’m sure I’m the last person you want advice about your son, but…can I?”

“I’m listening. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

Kurt smiled and chuckled, images of Blaine fathering a little five-year-old boy having been dancing in his head all evening. “I have a feeling you’re doing just fine, but Blaine? Don’t hide your grief from him.”

Blaine stopped walking and looked at Kurt, _really_ looked at him. “Keep talking…”

Kurt looked up and saw a bench, taking Blaine’s hand to go sit. “I guess I have a secret too. Not that I intentionally kept it from you – it just never came up?”

“Can this be the last secret? Because I’m exhausted from this one.”

Kurt chuckled and smiled. “Last one. I promise. It just seems Adrian and I have a lot in common already.”

“How so?”

“Blaine, my mom died when I was eight.”

“ _That’s_ why you’re so close to your dad.” Blaine sat back and chuffed. “You know what my son’s going through.”

“I don’t know about that. I was what? Twice his age, but I do know this. Dad hid his sadness from me. And so, I hid mine from him because if he was being brave then I had to be brave.”

“Oh hell.”

“I’m not pretending to know how Adrian’s dealing with this, but Blaine. It only makes sense that you’d grieve her together. Nine months is like a day when the person who was your everything is suddenly gone. He’s still raw and I’m guessing…so are you.”

“She was his everything.”

“Of course she was. She’s his mom. And Blaine? If you do it right? She will _always_ be his everything. He doesn’t get the gift I got – he’ll never have someone in the mom role again. She will be his lasting memory…and you have to let him hurt for that.”

“I don’t know how…”

“Don’t hide your own pain. Bring her up in conversation. Don’t make her a taboo subject.”

“I do let him talk if he brings her up.”

“That’s good…but maybe you need to bring her up sometimes too. _I don’t make grilled cheese as well as your mom did, but I did okay, didn’t I?”_

“How did you know!?”

“I remember that was always Dad’s biggest irritation. It’s why I learned how to cook.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to hand the knives over to a five-year-old quite yet.”

“See? You’re doing great with him.”


	10. Chapter Nine

They stood and walked further into the woods, nodding to other park goers as they passed, quietly enjoying the evening, the lessening tension between them. “Kurt, can I ask you a question – like yours – it might sound really judgmental, but it’s not meant to be.”

“Go.”

“You don’t want to date guys with kids. But the man you most admire was a guy with a kid looking for a partner. How do you justify that in your mind?”

“My distaste for kids has no relation to being raised by a single dad. My dad kicked ass at raising me. He didn’t miss a beat.”

“So, why don’t you like kids? You _were_ one…and seemed to evolve out of it pretty well.”

“Unless I fly to New York in a drunken rage and then I still act like one.”

“Okay, so your evolution is still in progress.”

“Mmm…it’s one of those things that’s been with me since I can remember. I _hated_ my peers as a kid. I had very few friends. I was weird. I was the kid who always dressed up for school and not because my mom made me. Even in 1st grade, I just wanted to look nice. I preferred baking over making mud pies and sewing over sports. I had girls for friends because the boys were either teasing me or being so pretty I couldn’t think straight.” Kurt chuckled and bumped Blaine’s shoulder. “Couldn’t think _straight_. Get it?”

“Your puns need work, babe.”

“Hrmph. So, I was teased all the time. By the time I got to junior high, I had already decided children were awful and I never ever wanted to deal with the snots again. I could go all melodramatic and call it PTSD, but really? I’m just uncomfortable around them. I don’t know how to talk to them. I can’t stand bodily fluids and they seem to leak them at an alarming rate.”

Blaine threw his head back and roared at that, even more amused when Kurt didn’t even bat an eye.

“Why on earth is that so funny?”

“Sometimes, Kurt…you remind me of my grandmother.”

“I should probably be insulted, but for some reason, I think I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Do, because you know what else?”

“What?” They’d arrived at a pond. With a bench. And a sun, still high in the sky, but nearing its end for the day. They sat and Blaine dared to scoot in close enough to brush shoulders and maybe, if Kurt would let him, take his hand.

“Your description of yourself as a kid sounds like a boy in my 3rd grade class.”

“How so?”

“His name was Thomas. And if you called him Tom, he’d correct you. Very prim and proper, mind, but the correction was swift. _It’s Thomas. T-H-O-M-A-S. Please call me Thomas._ ”

Kurt laughed, more at himself than poor Thomas. “It’s Kurt, with a K. K-U-R-T.”

"See? And he wore ties and vests and sometimes even suits to school – every day. Even gym days. He carried a briefcase and he was horrible at sports. Recess had to be terrible for him because really, what else did you do on the playground but physical stuff?”

“I sat in the cement tunnels and braided girls’ hair. And then they’d try to kiss me.”

“They were very smart girls.”

“Except I didn’t like girls, Blaine.”

“I was speaking of the wanting to kiss you part.”

Their stories stopped with their breath and a rush of warmth filled Kurt’s body. Until he put a freeze on it. “Don’t. This is hard enough.”

The pause was long and uncomfortable and the belt of a toad didn’t even break it. But, Blaine tried. “I’m sorry.”

Kurt offered a weak smile and leaned into his shoulder more, unable to ignore how secure he felt in that simple touch. “Go on.”

"Yes…anyway, Thomas T-H-O-M-A-S was different. At the end of the year, we had this huge assignment where we had to pick someone from history and read a biography on them. Then, we had to write an autobiography as if we were them. We had to come to class in costume and present this whole thing.”

“That is an awesome assignment!”

“I know! It was a blast and everyone really threw themselves into it. Costumes and props and presentations. Some of us had power points and video and everything. So, Thomas – he chooses, of all people, Betsy Ross.”

“Oh no.”

“Yes. I mean, he didn’t go drag or anything. He changed up how we see her – wore a chauffer’s cap instead of a bonnet and a scarf in place of a shawl. He wore brown slacks and a peasant type shirt, so he still looked like a traditional _boy_ but…”

“Did they tease him?”

“They tried. Our teacher kicked ass and didn’t tolerate that crap, but yeah. They tried. Kurt, he even learned how to quilt and brought fabric for all of us. There we were, 25 eight-year-olds with quilt squares and needles and thread trying to do a chain stitch.”

“I’m impressed you even know what the hell that is.”

“I was in love with him, Kurt. In. Love. I soaked up every word he said. And when he was done, I was the only fool who stood up to applaud him and I didn’t care.”

“Were you friends after that?”

“No. I just loved him from afar. I was into sports and _boy_ stuff, so I avoided the teasing by conforming.”

“Pity. A boy like that would have been much happier had he known a boy like you noticed him.”

“I was confused too.”

“So, who was your subject for the assignment?”

Blaine blushed. Bright red, cheeks, all the way to his ears. He turned, waved Kurt away, embarrassed like Kurt had never seen.

“Blaine!? Who???”

“Remind me why I brought this up.”

“Because I remind you of Thomas the cross dressing quilter. Now out with it.”

Still turned, in a hushed voice, eyes closed, Blaine finally confessed. “Paul Bunyan.”

And Kurt did exactly what Blaine knew he’d do. He threw his head back and roared. He laughed so loud a small gaggle of geese that had been quietly floating about shot out of the water and flew away. “Paul Buny-…wasn’t he supposed to be this huge man?”

Blaine watched him and joined his laughter, trying to defend his decision and failing mightily. But he was earnest in his attempts. As earnest as he had been in 3rd grade that he was going to be, he didn’t care how much Cooper laughed at him, Paul Bunyan.

“Flannel shirts, suspenders and all?”

“And work gloves, boots and a cardboard ax because dad wouldn’t let me bring a real one to school.”

“I bet you got an A.”

“I got an A. I was the best hobbit-sized Paul Bunyan that ever was.”

Kurt took Blaine’s hand and squeezed, leaning in a little closer, still giggling with the image of a miniature Paul Bunyan. “I think I would have liked you even as a kid.”

“Too bad Betsy and Paul never got together…”

“I had a Thomas…come to think of it.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Dad made me play soccer. _At least give it a try, Kurt. You might have fun!_ Hair brained ideas, as usual.”

“Poor Dad.”

“Pft. And of course, I didn’t have fun. It was horrible. But, I tried. And that’s where I met Chance. Chaz. Shit. I can’t remember his name!”

“Charlie?”

“No, not Charlie. Oh, he was delicious. Well, for a nine year old…as a nine year old. All dark skinned and dark moppy hair and…oh my.” Kurt stopped and grimaced. “I need to stop talking because this is starting to sound creepy, especially since I can’t remember his name.”

“Call him Chance…I want to hear.”

“He was great at soccer. Everyone would just kick the ball to him because he’d take it to the goal every time. None of us learned a thing except how to avoid being a team. And of course, how to avoid giving the ball to Kurt because he’d miss the damned thing every time. Everyone teased me and the coach was no help. But Chaz…dammit Chaz was my fake ID name! Ha! Anyway, the kid never teased me. He never said anything to stop it, but he _never_ teased me.”

“He was too busy playing the game and not being a douche.”

“Probably. Anyway, it was one of the last games of the season and the opposing team was working the ball down the field and I looked down and there it was right in front of me with no one there to challenge it. My big moment, right? I pulled my leg back and kicked the hell out of that ball. Except it was a Charlie Brown kick and I landed straight on my ass, in mud and the other team scored…because my team was too busy pointing and laughing at me to defend the ball.”

“Oh honey…”

“I sat there and cried. My ass hurt and I was wet and muddy. And I hated being muddy even more than I hated being laughed at. But then, Ch..CHASE! His name was Chase! Chase came out with a wet cloth from his mom’s cooler and he helped me up and he cleaned me off. Right in front of everybody. He patted my butt, he wiped my legs down, he squeezed the wet on the hem of my shorts…he didn’t care. And then, he told me to ignore everyone else and that next time, when I connected with the ball, I’d put it right into the goal.”

“Awww…did you guys become friends?”

“No. He didn’t even go to my school, but I knew I was in love with him and when he looked at me…his eyes were caramel colored – kind of a hazel-y brown…” Kurt looked over at Blaine and smiled into his caramel colored – kind of hazel-y brown eyes. “…just like yours. When he looked at me, I knew then and there that boys were the most beautiful creatures ever made.”

“Maybe…” Blaine rested his head on Kurt’s shoulder and sighed when Kurt rested his cheek on his head. “…maybe we were in love with each other before we ever met.”

“Maybe so.”

***

The silence that fell between them was comfortable again and after laughing attacks from the belch-y noises of a very excited frog, Kurt requested the one thing he’d held out on all evening. “I’d like to see a picture of Adrian now.”

Blaine beamed and pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly skimming through screens until he landed on the shot he wanted. “Kurt, [meet my son Adrian](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/dont_be_fancy/47891527/3252/600.jpg).”

Kurt took the phone and saw the most ornery, cherubic little imp he’d ever seen before. Adrian’s hair was curly like his dad’s, but the curls were bigger, looser, lighter. He had Blaine’s eyes and joy emanated from every pore. In the photo, he was clearly looking up at someone who he loved very much. “Are you kidding me?”

“No??”

“Oh my god. Do you have one straight on?” Kurt handed the phone back, seeing Blaine in a completely new light. He was a dad. It wasn’t that he had a child, no. He was a dad. It was a thread in his make-up that he’d never known before. And it was beautiful.

“Um, probably…hang on. He’s a bit of a live wire, so getting a shot is difficult.” He scrolled a few more times and smiled at [what he found](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/dont_be_fancy/47891527/2520/600.jpg). “This was after a bath so pardon the bare shoulders there…”

“Blaine, he’s beautiful.”

“He is…he looks more like his mom than me, but…”

“Well, thank god for small miracles.”

“Ha. Ha. Wait…do you want to see Maggie?”

“Yes.”

He scrolled some more and Kurt watched him, his eyes lit up like the sun, a bounce in his movements. He never would have thought Blaine had been holding anything back from him, but the ease that radiated from him now – now that he was free to talk and be and love on and about this child was enchanting.

“Okay, [here’s Maggie](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/dont_be_fancy/47891527/3655/600.jpg), obviously before she got sick.”

Kurt took the phone again and smiled back at her smiling face. She was loaded with freckles and had the same hair color as Adrian, long loose waves framing her face. “Does he have her freckles?”

“No! It’s weird. I just figured freckles were a given, but, no.”

“She’s radiant.”

“She was until the very end, Kurt. I mean, her skin was gray and her hair was gone and she looked like shit, but she never stopped shining.”

“How long was she sick?”

“She was diagnosed when Ade was 3. We thought she beat it – got the first clean bill of health and everything. Then a few months later, she started losing weight again and it was everywhere. Uterus, stomach…liver.”

“Oh my god. So, did Adrian see…her that sick? I mean, what does he remember?”

“He did? Until the very end. He knew her tummy was sick and that she was tired and wore pretty scarves on her head. My mom took him the last few weeks because it just didn’t seem right for him to see her that sick. She pretty much slept away the last couple of weeks.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

“Was your mom sick?”

“For 3 days. She got the flu, it went to pneumonia, they put her in the hospital and within 5 hours, she was gone. I went to school one day hearing her coughing in her bedroom and came home to a disaster.”

“I always try to tell myself that death is a gift to the dying, but…some days it’s no consolation.”

The sun had set completely and it was getting dark. Kurt took Blaine’s hand again and they stood, heading back to the car, hoping to beat the rangers who would most likely chastise them for being out in the park past dark. “Your family is beautiful.”

“It’s a little wobbly right now.”

“It’s still beautiful.”

***

The night was winding down and Kurt wanted to drive well below the speed limit to make it last a bit longer. Or take a detour via Columbus. Or St. Louis. Instead, he snuck in a few side routes. “So, tell me about Adrian. What does he like to do?”

“He loves to draw. We had a box at the Department in Findlay with all the paper to be shredded. I’d take it and give it to him once a week – stacked with skeins and skeins of it. He fills the pages with all sorts of things. Animals and buildings – he draws whole cities – and has these elaborate stories that go with them. I need a new paper resource. I’m too stubborn to buy him skeins of brand new paper, but he’s about out again.”

“Kaval’s Print Shop is up the road from the station – maybe they’d be able to save some for you?”

“Maybe, yeah. But, he’s always drawing. One of his preschool teachers told us to keep the coloring books away and once we did that, oh my god – it’s like his brain exploded.”

“Coloring books are the worst thing to give a creative kid.”

“I noticed. Quickly. He likes to act out stories – different than the ones he’s drawing. His mind amazes me.”

“Do you ever tape them?”

“Yeah, when I think of it. He comes up with them and wants to show me now, now, now and sometimes I’m just too fucking tired to bother, but…I should be better about it. We have some with Maggie in them.” Blaine chuckled at some of the memories. “By the time she was her most ill, she was just a prop. _Here, Mommy. You can be the flag pole._ He’d stick a flag in her hand and she’d just sit there holding it, waving it now and then for effect. _”_

“Aw, poor Maggie!”

“But, she’d be the best flag pole that ever was because _he_ asked her to do it.”

“My dad would have tea parties with me. I mean, he’s this burly, flannel-shirted mechanic, but because I asked him to…”

“Yeah – that’s all it takes. It’s…it’s such a weird force of nature, parenthood.”

“Is he into sports like you were?”

“He plays soccer, but I didn’t get him signed up down here yet.”

“Well, let’s hope he’s more successful at it than I was.”

“Uh. He is. He’s little, but fast. Of course, all they do now is herd the ball around. It’s like a pack of Shetland Sheepdogs and somewhere in the pile is a ball moving around.”

“So, how _is_ he doing? With Maggie gone?”

“He has nightmares. Sometimes he acts out in ways we never saw before. I mean, some of it is just that he’s getting older and realizing he has a voice in this world. I don’t want to stifle that, but it’s hard to tell when he’s trumpeting his voice or screaming at the injustice of it all. Bedtime is the worst. Worst, most awful worst.”

“He’s dreaming about her.”

“You think?”

“Probably. I used to dream about Mom almost every night…” Kurt disappeared into his own memories for a moment, jolting back when the car behind him honked because he’d sat too long at a green light. “…and it sucked because there she was! She was smiling and happy and beautiful. More than beautiful. She was luminous. And for me, whenever I’d talk to her or reach out for her she’d shake her head no and disappear. Every time. Every night.”

“Where have you been the last nine months? He can’t verbalize that to me…do you think that’s what’s going on?”

“Well, I surely don’t _know_ but that’s what happened to me. I was older, so it’s probably different, but Dad’s dreams were similar. It was one of the few things we could talk about at first.”

“I’ve had a few like that. It’s like she’s so happy to see me, but she won’t engage.”

“Exactly. And can you imagine as a kid? First your mom dies and then…it’s a wonder he doesn’t just burn the house down every night.”

“He knows where I keep the hoses.”

***

They pulled into the lot of the restaurant and Kurt rolled down a window and turned off his car.

Blaine leaned his head back on the headrest and huffed. “I don’t want to get out and go home.”

Kurt snuck his hand over to the door controls and locked them in.

“Uh, Kurt…I can still open the doors.”

“Shh. Let’s pretend.” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face Blaine better, leaning back against his door, not interested in the idea of ending the evening either. “I’ve had a really amazing time tonight…I didn’t expect it.”

“Me either. So. What now?”

“Now…I need some time.”

“Okay.”

“I have a friend that tried dating a single dad a few years ago. I’m not comparing this to his situation, but…his experience is partially what makes me more leery than I’d be on my own.”

“It didn’t go well, I take it.”

“No. It was a custody ploy. My friend ended up being used as a babysitter – a nanny – an extra daddy. And I kno-…”

“You _do_ know I’m not that guy? I’m not looking for a nanny. Or a babysitter. Or even another dad for Ade. And I wasn’t looking for a partner either, but…I found one. For _me_. To walk with _me_.”

Kurt sighed softly when Blaine looked up at him, his eyes shining and cutting through the darkness inside the car, cutting through his resolve. “I do know. But you still have to give me time. If it was just us, I’d have my hiking boots on and we’d be on our way. But it’s not anymore.”

“So…what _are_ we now?”

“Why…you have someone waiting in the wings?” Kurt smiled playfully, lost quickly when he met Blaine’s eyes, still sad. Still seeking answers that had yet to come.

“No. I guess I just…want something to hang onto.”

“How’s this?” He looked down at their hands, Blaine’s thumb tracing Kurt’s knuckles, a callous gently scratching his softer skin. “I’m still here. And that’s important because 24 hours ago, I wasn’t sure I could say that.”

When he looked up and met Blaine’s eyes, his breath hitched as it had the day they first met. Blaine was so naturally handsome, rugged and strong and his eyes…his eyes told of a tender heart and a genuine _good-_ ness about him. Sometimes it simply took Kurt’s breath away.

“I’m so glad you’re still here.”

“But,” He squeezed Blaine’s hand when he looked down, clearly not wanting to hear _but_. “I don’t know…if this really is a time to redraw my line in the sand. I _do_ know that I’ve never felt more passionately than when we were together and I’ve never hurt more deeply than I did this weekend. So…it’s worth taking some time.”

“Okay. I’ll give you all the space and time you need.” They shared the right-now space and time, fingers tangling together as words felt like intrusions in their shared thoughts. “So, this is where I want to kiss you.”

“This is where I have to say _no_.”

“I was afraid of that.”

Kurt smiled and brought their hands to his lips, kissing Blaine’s fingers. “It’s just that your kissing makes me unable to think.”

Blaine’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, but sadness still lingered. “Can I call you?”

Kurt shook his head. “Not yet. I’ll call you. And Blaine? I _will_ call. If nothing else, I want to be the most loyal friend you’ve ever had. Our stories are too similar to walk away from that. But, I have to figure this all out.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Can you do me a favor when you go in to check on Adrian tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“Give him a kiss on the forehead from me.”

***

_Kurt [07-25-23 23:45]: So, I owe you a few of these. Good night, Blaine. And thank you for a wonderful evening._

_Blaine [07-25-23 11:47] You don’t owe me anything. But you’re welcome – and sleep well._


	11. Chapter Ten

_Blaine [07-26-23 4:19]: Why doesn’t a fire chief look out the window in the morning???_

_Kurt [07-26-23 16:37]: I have no idea, Chief. Why doesn’t a fire chief look out the window in the morning?_

_Blaine [07-26-23 5:12]: Because then he wouldn’t have anything to do in the afternoon._

_Kurt [07-26-23 17:15]: You made me wait half an hour for THAT?_

_Blaine [07-26-23 5:23]: I don’t text and drive, Mr. Hummel._

And so began the daily pun texts. They were bad. Really, really bad. And hilarious in the most stupid of ways. And if Kurt wanted to be a total ass about it, they were out of the scope of _I’ll call you,_ but Kurt didn’t want to be a total ass and the idea that Blaine wasn’t going to make this easy was oddly comforting. And annoying in the most adorable of ways.

_Blaine [07-27-23 8:51]: What does Popeye do to keep his favorite tool from rusting?_

_Kurt [07-27-23 20:53]: Why do I know this is a double edged tool?_

_Blaine [07-27-23 8:54]: Because you have a dirty mind, Mr. Hummel._

_Kurt [07-27-23 20:55]: That, I do. So tell me….what does Popeye do to keep favorite tool from rusting?_

_Blaine [07-27-23 8:57]: He sticks it in Olive Oyl._

_Kurt [07-27-23 20:59]: You know, you’re making my decision much more painless, Chief Anderson._

_Blaine [07-27-23 9:04]: Good! I’ll be expecting a call, begging for my affections tomorrow._

_Kurt [07-27-23 21:13]: Mmmm, I think I might have lost your number._

_Blaine [07-27-23 9:25]: Good night, Kurt._

_Kurt [07-27-23 21:32]: Good night, Blaine. You nerd._

Of course, the easy thing to do would be to simply call Blaine, act as though there wasn’t this huge _thing_ taking over his brain. Their friendship was clearly intact and outside of Dot, he really didn’t have much in the way of friends in Lima anymore anyway. But then, he thought about Blaine’s kissable lips and his fuck me eyes and his muscular yet gentle arms. And then he thought about how those arms felt wrapped around him and all of the glorious, amazing things his hands could do and everything got really fuzzy after that. The problem was, once Blaine’s arms were done holding him and his hands were done ruining him, a little boy still stood in the corner of his mind mucking up the entire picture.

_Blaine [07-28-23 7:17]: This one’s from Adrian who is ticked off I sent the last one after he went to bed…_

_Blaine [07-28-23 7:18]: Some people’s noses and feet are built backwards: their feet smell and their noses run._

_Kurt [07-28-23 20:12]: Sorry. I was threatening the life of an incompetent fabric distributor. And see? Kids DO leak bodily fluids at an alarming rate…even in their jokes._

_Kurt [07-28-23 20:13]: Tell him if he leaves now, he might catch his nose before it hops on a bus._

_Blaine [07-28-23 8:20]: Nice. He just did an apple juice spit take. On my face._

_Kurt [07-28-23 20:22]: So, um. Does Adrian know about me?_

_Blaine [07-28-23 8:25]: Only that I’m sending these jokes to a friend. And now he thinks that friend is really funny. Or, excuse me PUNNY. Ah, I am raising him right._

_Kurt [07-28-23 20:28]: Ugh. I’m taking a bath and pretending this never happened. Good night, Blaine._

_Blaine [07-28-23 8:29]: It’s bath time here too. Good night, Kurt._

And so went the insanity that was Kurt’s time to _think_. His office trashcan was filled with wadded up lists of pros and cons of kids, of men with kids, of Blaine in general, of dating someone in Lima, of Blaine’s lips – yes, he had a list of the pros and cons of Blaine’s lips and no, there was not a con to be had other than they belonged to a man who had a darling, curly-haired little munchkin named Adrian. Concentration had virtually disappeared during his waking hours and sleep was frantic and dream-filled. In this week alone, he’d woken up with more wood than a 13 year old who had just discovered his big brother’s porno magazines. Or big sister’s. Depending.

On a Saturday, he was digging through a quarter crate of freshly picked corn at his favorite farmer’s market when he heard it. Heard him. Heard – in the front of the barn where his back was turned and he was safely tucked behind more quarter crates topped with home-baked pies and breads and cookies.

“Adrian. Get over here now. I’m not telling you again.”

“But, it’s a _tractor!_ ”

“And it’s crowded and I want you next to me.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“Then we’re even. Now, help me pick some peaches and we can check out the tractor when we’re done.”

“Last time we picked peaches they were all too hard.”

“I think it’s because we they were from the grocery. They’ll be better here, don’t you think?”

Kurt bit his lip to keep from laughing and stuffed one more ear of corn into his bag before taking a deep breath and facing the music. The child. Whatever.

He sauntered over, taking in the little moppy-haired boy who was obediently counting peaches that his dad was picking out and gingerly putting them into their bag.

“You know, if you do the sniff test, you’ll get perfect peaches every time.”

Blaine looked up from his serious peach scrutiny and grinned, knocking the display with his bag, causing it to wobble and unseat a few of the stacked fruits. “Hi!” He caught a rolling peach and shot a look to Adrian who had melted into a giggle fit. “Wow. Hi. I, um…wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.” Kurt looked at Adrian and smiled, pointing to Blaine. “Is he always this silly?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“I’m Kurt. I’m the one you’ve been sending funny jokes to this week.”

“OH! Hi! I’m Adrian! We’re trying to pick peaches, but…” Adrian caught one more rolling peach and plopped it back on the pile. “…it’s not going so good.”

“Can I show you a trick that works every time for me?” Without waiting for an answer, Kurt snooped through the peaches, picking one with good color and gave it a gentle squeeze. Then, he brought it to his nose and took in a good whiff. “Okay, Adrian, sniff this one.”

Adrian sniffed and lifted the peach to his dad. His dad who suddenly had fallen speechless. “It smells like a peach.”

“Right, put that one in your bag. Now, let’s try…” Kurt skimmed through the pile and found one with good color, but a little less soft. He gave it a sniff and passed it to Adrian. “…this one.”

Adrian sniffed and grimaced, lifting the peach to Blaine. “Doesn’t smell like much of anything.”

“Which one do you think will taste better?”

“The peachy one!”

“You can still get the other ones? Just put them in a brown bag for a few days to let them ripen some more.”

Blaine furrowed his brow and dug out the peaches he and Adrian had already picked, putting a few back after they both decided they didn’t pass the sniff test. “Is that how those peaches you had were so good?”

“Probably.” Kurt grabbed a bag and started filling it with his own fruit, desperately trying not to stare at Adrian. He was vibrant and adorable and it was fooling with the head game he’d been playing for the past week and it most definitely was going to screw up the pros and cons list he’d already created about adorable children. Not adorable. Just _children._

Kurt felt a tug on his pant leg and looked down, tying his plastic bag. “Kurt, we’re goin’ to the shake shack for lunch. Do ya wanna come with us?”

“Adrian, now…I’m sure Kurt has things to do today. Don’t put him on the spot like that.” Blaine apologized with his eyes, and fidgeted with his bags.

Kurt reached out and touched Blaine’s arm, trying to get some eye contact. “It’s okay. Adrian, I’d love to come, but I can’t today. I’m having lunch with _my_ dad.”

“Oh. Well, Dad, can I climb on the tractor now?”

“Yes. Go. Walk and do not push!”

Adrian flapped his hand at his dad and waited his turn to climb up into the seat, looking back to make sure his dad was watching.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t…I thought I’d introduce you…I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Blaine headed towards the tractor, his eyes darting between Kurt and watching his son.

“I think the only person uncomfortable here is you. What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I guess I had something…” Blaine sighed and kept an eye on Adrian awhile pulling Kurt away from the crowd. “I just don’t want to screw anything up. I didn’t know if you were ready to meet him and…”

“I wasn’t. But we’re here.” Seeing Blaine was still distracted and upset, he dipped his head down, insisting on his attention. “Blaine. It’s fine. He’s lovely.” They looked over to the tractor just in time to watch Adrian, now sitting in the driver’s seat, lean down and offer a hand to another little boy who wanted up, but couldn’t quite find the lift to launch himself high enough. “See? He’s one of the good ones. Like his daddy.”

Blaine’s shoulders finally relaxed and he smiled, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. “Can you…can you take a picture of us? Me and Ade? I don’t have a recent one.”

“Sure…”

Kurt waited while Blaine pulled a reluctant Adrian off of the tractor and put him back up onto one of the oversized tires, away from the other kids. “Does this work?”

“Perfect.” Kurt took the shot and got their approval. “Can you…will you send that to me?”

“Yeah, let me…” He fiddled with his phone and Kurt’s buzzed seconds later. “…do it now or I’ll forget.”

The trio paid for their items and headed to their cars, Adrian hopping into his booster seat and pulling at his dad’s hair playfully when he buckled him in. Blaine left the door open and leaned against his car, waiting for Kurt to put his belongings in his own vehicle.

“I’m sorry I was…I’m sorry this is all so weird. I do better on text when I can’t see you.”

“And I’ve been better in person than I have been all week. I’m a mess.”

“You are?”

“Stop smirking, Mister. Thanks to you, I have to completely redo the directions for 2 of the 3 designs I sent in this week because I missed important steps. I mobilized 10 volunteers for an event next Saturday that isn’t happening until next month. I ran a red light at North Shore and Collette…don’t know _how_ I ended up alive on that one. Um…what else?”

“Because of me?” Blaine took Kurt’s hands in his. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. And yes…all because of you.” Kurt shot a look to the curly mop in Blaine’s car. “And him. I’m so fucking confused, Blaine.”

“Are you confused or are you fighting what you already know?”

Their eyes finally met and Kurt had to chuckle. Blaine knew him too well. “Yes.”

“DAD! Hot! Come on!!”

Blaine rolled his eyes and stepped back, squeezing Kurt’s hands as he let go. “Well. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

“Blaine, I would have gone to lunch with you guys today…I just can’t.”

“I understand.” Blaine closed Adrian’s door and went around to the driver’s side, rubbing Kurt’s arm as he walked by. “Do you need me to stop with the stupid texts, or…”

“No. I look forward to them, damn you.”

“Good. Have fun at your dad’s and…I’ll um…see you around?”

Kurt kissed his fingers and waved, ducking into his car quickly. This was more painful than he imagined, the daily goofy texts were much easier to handle. The temptation to hop into Blaine’s car and drive off into the sunset was intense. Insane. Overwhelming. Irresponsible and ridiculous.

His phone buzzed as he started his car.

_Blaine [07-29-23 11:24]: The fruit magnate was a crook, so he was impeached._

_Kurt [07-29-23 11:24]: You are a sad, strange little man, Blaine Anderson._

_Blaine [07-29-23 11:25]: Yeah, but I’m irresistible._

Kurt put his car in reverse and pulled out of the lot. Irresistible wasn’t even the start of it.

***

_Kurt [07-30-23 10:18]: How do you tickle a rich girl?_

_Blaine [07-30-23 10:45]: Why would I even want to?_

_Kurt [07-30-23 10:47]: Okay, now you’re not even playing nice. I finally have one and you’re changing the script._

_Blaine [07-30-23 10:49]: Fine, fine…how do you tickle a rich girl?_

_Kurt [07-30-23 10:53]: Say “Gucci Gucci Gucci!”_

_Blaine [07-30-23 10:58]: I’m impressed! Career-centered and everything!_

_Kurt [07-30-23 11:02]: Have a good day, Blaine._

_Blaine [07-30-23 11:04]: Ade says you need to work on it. He didn’t get it._

_Kurt [07-30-23 11:07]: Well, school him on the important designers of our culture, Chief Anderson. You’re slipping on the job._

_Blaine [07-30-23 11:09]: I’ll get right on that. Oh, the peaches? Perfection._

_Kurt [07-30-23 11:12]: J Glad to hear it._

***

“You have a delivery, Kurt.”

Dot came out of her office, her ornery grin meeting Kurt’s confused expression. She flipped the light on in the conference room and motioned him in. In the middle of the table sat a single pink rose, vased with greenery and an enveloped card, perched in a plastic clip.

“When did this come?”

“About half an hour ago. Open the damned envelope. It’s making me all itchy.”

Kurt grabbed it and held it up to the light. “You mean nosey. Don’t confuse your physiology with your personality.”

“Open the damned thing or I’m making you take the midnight to 6 am on-call shift for a month.”

Kurt lowered the card and pressed his lips together. “Dot, I’m a volunteer. You can’t make me _do_ anything.”

“Open. The. Card. You know it’s from Chief Anderson. I just want to know what it says.”

“I know no such thing. For all you know, I have admirers all over Ohio _and_ New York.” Kurt pocketed the card into his vest, patted his chest and sauntered into his office, closing the door…until Dot’s firm (damn, she was strong for an old broad) hand stopped it before latching. “Kurt Hummel?”

“Yes?”

“I hate you.” He yanked the door open and Dot fell in, plopping into the seat across from his desk. “I’ll just sit here all day then. Not like the computers are working properly anyway.”

They stared each other down and when Kurt broke before she did, a fact he would deny if asked, he conceded and opened the envelope, reading to himself.

_A pink rose for Grace – the only coherent word I could process the day I met you._

He blushed from his neck to his ears and handed the card to Dot, saying nothing.

“Oh Kurt. He’s got it bad.”

“What am I going to do?”

“Stop being an idiot.”

“I met Adrian Saturday.”

“And?”

“You’re right; he’s darling.” Kurt sighed and leaned back in his chair, inspecting the pocks in the ceiling panels. “The last thing I need is a guy with a kid. Darling or not. My plate is already so full.”

“Maybe, but honey? Everyone needs to leave room for a little dessert.”

***

_Allen County Dispatch to Lima City Fire. 552 Linden St. Five-five-two Linden St. Residential fire. Time of dispatch 14:32. Lima City Fire. 552 Linden St. Residential Fire. Clear._

“Oh hell. Dot, I’ll stay…you go on.”

“Are you sure? You might be waiting for nothing.”

“Yep. Go. Turn your phone off – I’ll hear if we get dispatched.”

Dot collected her gatherings and headed toward the door before Kurt changed his mind. With a quick peck on his forehead she was out. Seconds later, however, he heard her cackle from the hallway.

The office door opened and he was faced with another vase. Another flower. Another note. The delivery man glanced back into the conference room at the previous delivery and smirked. “Someone’s playing hard to get.”

Kurt shook his head and thanked the man, taking the envelope as he set the gorgeous deep burgundy rose and its vase on his desk.

_A burgundy rose for unconscious beauty. Every move you make…and you’re completely unaware._

Kurt sat and stared at the flower, fingering it’s delicate petals, spinning the vase, watching the florescent light change the shade of reds, from a rosé to a deep shiraz. The radio beeped and buzzed in the background, dispatch discussing school bus runs, squad runs in other townships and yes, the fire that was most definitely burning in central Lima.

Before long, his reverie snapped as his office phone rang, dispatch beckoning him to the scene. He touched his nose to the center of the opening flower and inhaled deeply before grabbing his bag and calling a local volunteer for assistance.

When they arrived, squads, engines, ladders, police, and of course spectators, were already blocking the street. Kurt and Jake, his volunteer, couldn’t even see the affected house without making it on foot for a bit.

“Okay, we’re here earlier than usual, Jake. It’s more difficult when you see an active fire and it’s harder on the clients, so if you need to stop, take a walk, just tell me.”

“I’ll be fine, man. You said it should be straight-forward, right?”

“Hopefully. Let’s go find the chief and we’ll go from there.”

Kurt radioed dispatch and they started their walk, shrugging their vests on and slowing as they approached, the heat of the fire smacking their skin even as far as a couple houses away.

Not seeing the elusive white helmet anywhere, Kurt approached the Captain.

“Hi. I’m Kurt with C-DRT. Do you kn-…”

“Oh! _You’re_ Kurt. Nice to put a face to the name.”

“You…” Kurt blushed and rolled his eyes. Of course. “…yes. I’m Kurt and you’re…??”

“I’m Captain Harris. Looking for Chief?”

“That’s who I’m supposed to report to.”

“I’m your man for now. Chief just went in.”

Kurt looked up at the house, the back half engulfed in flames, a yellow-brown smoke billowing out of windows and holes made in the roof. A few firefighters were up on the structure, smashing at the shingles and flashing to open more allowing more heat to safely escape.

“He went in? It’s a fucking inferno!” Kurt swallowed hard and tried to find a brave face to plaster over his petrified one. “Okay…what do we ha-…”

From the house, a hiss, a WHOOSH and deep, muddled BOOM cut through the air.

"Shit."

Before Kurt could put the pieces together, a fireball of flames shot out from under the roof taking a wall…and Kurt’s heart…right along with it.


	12. Chapter Eleven

What was an otherwise calm fire scene cranked into overdrive the moment the backdraft hit. Chief Harris turned to the engines, spinning his forearm as half of the firemen rushed to their trucks while the other half moved their hoses in closer. “Get them _out_ of there!”

The horns sounded three times in alarm and two firemen spilled out of the house, turning back to it and pointing, looking to the medics and back again.

“Anderson, do you copy? Chief! Do you copy?”

Kurt found himself leaning back against Jake who was too frightened to do anything other than support him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, only the constant roll of _come out come out get out be okay come out blaine blaine blaine_ cycling through his head like a broken record _._

“Captain, he’s still on the move.”

“Kurt, he’ll be okay. His PASS hasn’t activated.”

Kurt nodded silently but couldn’t catch his breath. And he didn’t care. Not until he saw him, heard him, anything more confirming than the current sight of flames and water and thick, black smoke.

A pop and a hiss broke through Captain Harris’ radio, the air noise filled with static and mechanical sounding breathing. “Anderson. Copy.”

Kurt bolted up and away from Jake at the muffled, yet familiar voice. “Oh! Oh god, that was him. Was that hi-…?”

“Yep. He’s okay.”

“But where…” Before he could finish, there was movement by the front door. Kurt grabbed at Jake’s arm as Chief Anderson exited the house, smoke still billowing from his uniform. As it cleared, screams cut through the bustle of the scene. A woman’s blood-curdling screams.

Blaine was carrying a child, rag-dolled over his shoulder, charred clothes, shoeless.

Lifeless.

In a flash, Chief handed the child off to the medics, ripped off his helmet and mask, bending to rest his hands on his thighs. Kurt flinched to go to him, but Chief Harris held him back. “Leave him be. He’s in his head right now. He’ll be alright.”

Kurt conceded – there wasn’t anything he could do anyway. This fire was far from over and now, in his capacity as the C-DRT leader, he was facing a crisis like he’d never managed before. “Jake, back to the truck.”

“But…”

“Get in the truck. We’re not going to stand here and watch their tragedy. I’ll meet you there.” Kurt looked at Captain Harris, pleading for something, anything, although he wasn’t sure what. “That kid’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Or beyond resuscitation, yeah. Fucking Chief. He _knew_ that kid was in there, even though Mom and Dad said he wasn’t home…” Captain pointed Chief to the direction of the misters to cool off and made one more check on Kurt. “You okay? You need some O 2?”

“No, I’m…I’m good. Now.” Kurt looked around, the firefighters doing their job with a calm of experience. Of distance as to not get wrapped up in the drama that was unfolding around them. He envied them in a way he never imagined he would. He felt like he was holding his heart in his hand, afraid to squeeze it too hard or he’d crush it. “So, I’m in uncharted waters here – do we stay? For Mom and Dad?”

“Yeah, they’ll still need your services. It’s not going to happen right away though.”

“No. Why don’t we head out and get food for you guys in the meantime? We’re all going to be here awhile.”

“That would be perfect, actually. You sure you’re okay? I need to get back to my crew.”

"Yeah, yeah. Go. Thanks for…” Kurt smiled, exhaustion and relief taking over his ability to speak. "Thanks."

Kurt turned to head to the truck, pride sweeping over him as he passed the misting station. In light of what had just happened, it was a strange emotion, but the white tent – with auxiliary fire volunteers waiting to replenish oxygen tanks, to check over firefighters, and to run the misting of overheated workers – was Blaine’s baby. It was what he and Dot discussed only weeks before and what he had made happen – what was making him well enough to finish his job today.

Blaine stepped out of the light spray of water and hiked his jacket back over his shoulders, catching Kurt’s eye. “C’mere.”

Kurt took the distance in one step fighting every urge to touch him, to hug him, to physically react to the panic that had been filling his body. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I thought we had that fucking roof opened up enough in back.”

“There must have been a pocket somewhere. Were you…where were you?”

“We were coming downstairs; I was afraid we’d land in the basement.” Blaine looked back out at the scene and put his helmet on. “I have to go. Come by the station when you’re done?”

“I’m going to be here a long time.”

Blaine took off a glove and grabbed the sleeve hole of Kurt’s red vest, running a thumb over the reflective trim as his eyes met Kurt’s, an exhausted smile brightening his face if only a little. “Text me. Find me. Please?”

Kurt nodded and took Blaine’s wrist, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll find you. Be careful.”

***

Kurt knocked on Blaine’s office door, still chuckling at the reception he’d received when coming to the station. He visited silently before, never making an entrance, never drawing attention to himself, to Blaine, to them as a couple, but it seemed the crew knew all about him anyway. _Some_ one had been talking. Someone who just invited him to come in to his office, his voice wrecked and raspy.

“Hey.”

Blaine didn’t look up to greet Kurt, focused on paperwork. “Hi. Have a seat.”

Kurt sat quietly, the plastic bag he’d brought with leftover subs crinkling loudly in the quiet room. Blaine didn’t flinch. Kurt waited a long, exhaustible moment in silence and finally, “Do…do you want me to come another time?”

“No.” Blaine tossed his pen on the desk and finally looked up, his eyes lifeless with exhaustion. “What’d you bring?”

“Subs. You didn’t eat at the scene.”

“Thanks.” Blaine dug into the bag and pulled out a wrapped roll, opening it and eating in one swift motion, focusing on the food as though Kurt wasn’t even there.

“So. Are we playing the role of Chief Anderson at the moment?”

“I’m not playing a role. I am Chief Anderson in this building.”

“Mmmm, even with me. I’d thought you’d given up switching it off and on around me.”

Blaine grunted and took another bite, avoiding any eye contact.

“Look. I can ring you tomorrow or something. I’m not comfortable.”

Blaine chewed a rogue green pepper into his mouth and leaned back, the initial pains of hunger having been satisfied. He finally met Kurt’s eye, distant. Professional. “I heard you were worried about me.”

“I was petrified. It still lingers.”

“We’re trained for those types of things, Kurt.”

“Yes. But I’m not trained to watch it happen…especially not with someone I care about inside. And, I don’t care _how_ trained you are, Blaine. Men die in backdrafts.”

“That they do.” Blaine went back to his sandwich.

“Blaine, have I done something wrong? Is it inappropriate for me to show concern on a scene?”

“No, not at all. Kurt, I’m not mad at you.” He put his sandwich down and wiped his mouth clean and sighed. “At anyone. I’m just…decompressing? This one took it out of me.”

“Okay. Then,” Kurt stood and sighed when Blaine didn’t even follow with his eyes. “I’m going to let you do that. If you need anything else…”

“Can you come to my house after I get Adrian to bed?”

The words came quickly, anxiously, and when Kurt looked back upon hearing them, Blaine’s eyes were pleading, the veil of authority having been lifted when Kurt touched the doorknob to leave.

“Blaine, I’m not sure that’s a go-…”

“Please? I’m not asking…I don’t want to be alone. I’m not asking you to spend the night, but just…come sit with me. You don’t have to say anything or do anything or…” He smiled at his own inability to find words for his overwhelming wash of emotions. “I need my son first. And then, I would really like for someone to come sit with me. And I’d like it to be you.”

“What time?”

“Nine? Is that too late?”

“No. Do you want me to bring anything? Beer? Movies? Parcheesi?”

“I _am_ out of Yuengling…”

Kurt smiled and finally relaxed. “I’ll pick up a pack. And hug that boy extra tight tonight.”

“You have no idea…”

***

“It’s nice back here. I wouldn’t have figured it’d be this quiet in town.”

“Yeah, sometimes living in an old fashioned town isn’t so bad. Everyone turns in early.”

They sat in silence again, this being the pattern since Kurt’s arrival. A few sentences. A long silence, eating the pizza Kurt brought, sipping on beer (that Kurt finally tried after years of hearing his friends plead _but_ this _beer is delicious!_ ) or just listening to the crickets lend their nightly serenade. It seemed to be just what Blaine needed and without realizing it, it was what Kurt needed as well. Dealing with family members who’d just lost a child was something he hoped he’d never have to experience again.

“They said that boy was five years old, Kurt. He could have been in Ade’s class next month.”

“Yes. He’s going to go to Freedom? That’s right over here?”

Blaine nodded and pointed in the direction of the school, only 2 blocks east. “What did they tell you happened? I mean, I know you’re under confidentiality agreements, so…”

“They signed off; it’s fine. Derrick was supposed to have been at a friend’s house and Mom and Dad were out working in that garage out back. I guess he and his buddy had a fight and he walked home.”

“How far did he walk?”

“I think he lives on Harrison? Isn’t that just west of you?”

“Yep. So…shit…he’ll go to Freedom too.” Blaine took a pull of his beer and closed his eyes, soaking it all in.

“So, god knows how many times he skirted getting killed crossing all of those streets. I mean I’m clueless about kids, but should a 5 yr. old be walking that far alone?”

“You’re not clueless. If Adrian ever tries it, I’ll kill him. You’re with a grown-up or you don’t move.”

“Well, somehow he made it – obviously. They’re guessing he looked for his parents and they didn’t answer, so…”

“So he got distracted by shiny shit on Mom’s dresser and started plugging it into electrical sockets.” Blaine sat up straight on his chaise, eyes flashing with anger. “No, a kid who’s still shoving shit into outlets should _not_ be walking home alone.”

“Blaine, the other parents didn’t know he’d left their house. They thought the boys were playing quietly in his room.”

“I know. I just want someone to blame. I can’t wrap my head around this one. Senseless. And now a kid’s dead.”

“It’s hitting too close to home. That’s understandable, Blaine. You can’t be The Distant Stoic Chief about every facet of a fire this big.”

Blaine huffed and reclined again, draping his arms over the arm rests. Resigned. Spent. Exhausted. “And then, I was afraid I wasn’t going to get out of there with him.”

“What took you so long anyway?”

“I was about 3 steps from the first floor when the backdraft hit. Blew us down. Once I got up and was moving, I stumbled on a pile of debris from the 2nd floor. I had to get over that. In the dark…”

“…with a dead body.”

“Yes.”

They sat in silence again, resting in the reality of their afternoon. In the reality that somewhere not too far from them, a mom and dad were wondering how they were going to wake up in the morning without the spark and life of their 5 year old son.

“Do you ever get scared?”

“Not until afterwards…that’s why I was such a jackass at the station. The fear hits me and I just shut down.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I’m not even sure what all I’m feeling from it either.” Kurt took a pull from his beer, grimacing at its warmth. “Did you hear Mrs. Eastwood screaming? I can’t…I can’t get it out of my head.”

“No. I don’t hear anything other than my guys and my radio at that point. I’m on auto-pilot.”

“It’s…it’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard.” Kurt rolled his head to look at Blaine who looked about three sentences away from being asleep. He hooked their pinkies together, the slight buzz from the beers lulling him to join Blaine’s sleepiness.

The sound of a sticky sliding glass door didn’t even stir them. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?” Blaine jerked and blinked, smiling sleepily at the groggy boy standing at the foot of his chair, well-loved blanket in hand, hair flying everywhere.

“Ade…what are you doing up, buddy?”

“I hadta potty. The light back here confused me.” He rubbed his knuckles around his eyes and looked at Kurt. “Why is the peach gu-…Kurt…why’s Kurt here?”

Kurt smiled and stood, collecting their beer bottles and empty pizza plates. “Hey, Adrian.”

“Because Daddy needed a friend tonight and Kurt’s my friend. Let’s get you back to bed, huh?”

“Blaine, I’m going to go ahead and leave. You need…why don’t you go up with him? You’re exhausted.”

Blaine scooped Adrian up and nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. Ade, you wanna sleep with Daddy tonight?”

“In your big bed??”

“Yep. Bring your music too.”

They made their way inside and Adrian was already asleep in his dad’s arms before they got to the front door. “Go on…I’ll see myself out.”

“Are you sure?”

Kurt nodded and slipped his arm around Blaine pulling him in for a half-hug, until Adrian sleepily grabbed on and pulled him in all the way. Kurt chuckled nervously but mostly relished the comfort he felt in Blaine’s arms again, the comfort of that distinct smoky scent that lingered in his hair the day after a fire. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks for coming over. I’m…I’m not doing very well at leaving you alone, am I?”

They broke free and Kurt grabbed the doorknob before he decided to join the slumber party in Blaine’s bedroom. “You’re fine. Today hasn’t felt right without a pun text anyway.”

“But…flowers?”

“But, flowers. You think too highly of me.”

“No. I don’t think I do, Kurt.”

With a smile and a sigh, Kurt opened the door and stepped out. “Goodnight, Blaine. We’ll talk soon.”

***

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:15]: A man noted for telling puns was locked into a dark closet, and told he would not be released until he made up a pun about the situation._

_Kurt [08-01-23 22:31]: Oh, here we go. Why aren’t you asleep?_

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:33]: He immediately shouted, “Oh, pun the door!”_

_Kurt [08-01-23 22:35]: Really? I had to wait all day, almost see you die and…decide I can tolerate the taste of one brand of beer for that? FOR THAT?_

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:36]: It was worth it, wasn’t it? And I’m not asleep because he kicks until he’s out cold. I gave up trying._

_Kurt [08-01-23 22:37]: Ouch. Does he kick on purpose or??_

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:38]: He twitches. Hard. Sometimes violently. He’s nailed my crotch three times already._

_Kurt [08-01-23 22:40]: Poor thing. Maybe you should wear a cup?_

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:41]: I think I’ll pass. I also think he’s out now, so I’m going to scoot down and snuggle._

_Kurt [08-21-23 22:43]: Sleep well. I’m going to work for awhile._

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:44]: Thanks again for coming over. Oh! Are you going to be in the parade this weekend?_

_Kurt [08-01-23 22:45]: No. Dot’s taking the ERV with some of the college kids. I’m sitting with my family._

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:47]: Where do you usually sit?_

_Kurt [08-01-23 22:48]: You know that club we went to? Somewhere in Time?_

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:48]: Yeah, across from the hospital?_

_Kurt [08-01-23 22:49]: Yes. There’s a barbeque place around the corner. We always sit there._

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:51]: Okay. I’ll look for you. And I really have to go now. The phone just fell on my face and I woke Adrian up laughing…it’s going to be a long night._

_Kurt [08-01-23 10:55]: Haha! Go to sleep, boys._

_Blaine [08-01-23 10:56]: Sleeping…zzzzzzzzzz…_


	13. Chapter Twelve

Kurt was precariously sprawled across his drafting table drawing precise arcs and curves to sleeve patterns when the doorbell rang. He cursed and ignored it, not in a position to move. When it rang again he scowled and stood, peeling a scrap of the thin tissue paper from his arm, picking up the few pieces that fluttered to the ground.

By the third ring, he was jogging down the stairs from his studio. “Coming!”

When he opened the door, the same floral delivery man from the office stood there looking like he’d just caught him kissing under the school bleachers. Kurt took the vase and the delivery man snarked, “After a few days off, I thought you’d finally caved.”

“I’m stubborn. Thank you…should I…should I be tipping you?”

“Give the girl a chance – that’ll be tip enough for me.”

Kurt pinched his lips together and smiled through it. “What if it’s a boy?”

“Be happy. I deliver flowers to make people happy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind…thank you.” He offered a genuine smile and closed the door, sniffing the beautiful lavender bud and picking the card out of the holder.

_Lavender roses are for love at first sight. Seeing you in your red vest again…_

“Damn that man.” Kurt picked the rose from the vase and trimmed it, putting it with the other two he’d collected from the office, refreshing their water, hoping they’d survive a few more days. Instead of leaving them on the kitchen table, he took them upstairs to his workspace.

Because he could. No other reason.

***

“Can I ride, Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt stopped pushing his dad’s wheelchair the minute the little girl ran in front of it. “Honey, that’s not really a goo-…”

“Oh, Kurt. Stop fussing over me. It’s fine. Hop up here, Sweetie.” She did and Kurt tossed a questioning look up to Finn.

“Neighbor kid. Olivia. In love with your dad.”

Olivia looked back at Kurt and smiled. “What’s _your_ name?”

“Kurt.” He pointed to his dad’s head. “He’s my dad.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve seen your pi’ture in the house.”

Kurt leaned back to Finn again, hoping small children could be deaf at the right time. “How come I’ve never seen this child before but she’s been in Dad’s house?”

“She just moved in last week. Are you jealous?”

“Confused, Finn. Is he nice to her?”

“Most of the time. He seems more lucid now that she’s been around. And…now that he’s on those new pills.”

“All he told me was they made him pee all the time.”

“And that the cardiologist is still an asshat.”

“And that.” Kurt looked up and stopped, putting the brakes on his dad’s wheelchair. “Okay, here’s our spot. Whose turn is it to go in and get drinks?” Kurt looked around and heaved a contented sigh. He wanted to hate Lima, he did. He missed New York like a long lost lover, but days like this – when the community came together, when they repeated annual traditions from his childhood – Lima was home.

Carole took the drink run and Olivia hopped off of Burt’s lap dancing around, making up songs about parades and candy and where was her candy bag and oh my god, where were this child’s parents?

“I choose you to sit with me on the curb, Kurt. You have a grumpy face and parades make people happy.”

“I have a grumpy fa-…oh. Kay.”

She pulled his arm, plopped herself down and yanked, giving Kurt no option but to join her. “Okay, Olivia. Stop yanking. I’m here.” He looked at her and sighed. “How old are yo-…”

Saved by the gunshot. It was time for the parade to start and Olivia’s attentions left Kurt’s and went to the road, waiting to see that first sign of activity to come into her view.

“They’re coming! They’re coming!”

Of course, everyone already knew this because virtually every township was represented in this parade, all bringing a police car, a ladder, a squad and all blaring their sirens. The word _cacophony_ didn’t even begin to describe the noise. Lima City police led the parade, seconded by the medics and then Engine #1. And then, an unmovable, uncontrollable, inconceivably bright smile on Kurt’s face as he spotted Blaine hanging onto the side waving, being adorable and hot and wearing his fucking chief’s helmet with his station uniform. As the engine approached, he could see they had even hung a sign on the side of the truck welcoming him to the department, to the community.

The parade came to a standstill (why did that always happen, Kurt wondered? Even in the front, the whole parade always stops for no reason) and Blaine took off his helmet, handing it to one of his crew. He grabbed a bucket of candy and helped the other guys toss out goodies, making sure every child had something. He spotted Kurt and dug deeper into his bucket, hiding something behind him.

“Is this your boy?”

Kurt tossed a look back to Carole and blushed. “That’s the Chief, yes…”

“He’s…damn. You know how to pick ‘em!”

“Stop. Now.”

Olivia had decided the noise was too much for dancing and jumping and bopping around and attached herself to Kurt’s arm, hiding her face behind his back. “Olivia…they have candy, sweetheart.”

“You get it.”

“I am not running out into the street to get candy. Come on, now.” He tried to turn his body and maneuver her around so she could see Blaine if nothing else, but she wasn’t having it.

He gave up and turned back only to see an oversized, rainbow swirled lollipop in front of his face.

“Oh.” He took it and looked up, finding the gorgeous face of Chief Blaine Anderson smiling at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Kurt blushed and looked down at the huge lollipop. “This has to be the gayest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

Blaine squatted down and looked Kurt in the eyes, unflinching, unwavering. “I don’t care. I want you back. I don’t care if the entire town knows.”

Before Kurt could release the breath he captured, the chief had turned to the little girl peeking out from behind Kurt’s arm. “And who do we have here?”

“O…my name’s Olivia. Your trucks are too loud.”

“They are very loud. How old are you, Olivia?”

“I’m four. Four and one half.”

“Well, Olivia who’s four and one half years old…let me see if I have something special for you.” Blaine stood and turned back to the truck. “Adrian! I need your help, buddy.” He hiked himself onto the truck and opened the side door just as it started creeping forward again. Kurt was so busy watching Blaine’s arms and glutes flex, he almost missed Adrian dressed in full firefighter gear – helmet, a mini turncoat and trousers decorated with reflective striping and yes, the most important piece – the swagger.

“Are you _kidding_ me right now?”

“What? He’s five, Kurt. He likes to pretend.” Blaine chuckled and handed Adrian a bag and pointed to Olivia who had come out of hiding and was watching the little boy approach her like he was the King of England. Kurt thought he might throw up.

“Hi. I’m Adrian.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a plastic fireman’s hat and handed it to Olivia. “D’ya want a hat?”

“Yes!” She took it and put it on, bill in front.

“No, silly. That goes in back so the water can pour off.” He leaned up and flipped the hat on her head, bopping the top of it for good measure. “There. Oh.” He looked at his bag and handed it to her. “And here’s some candy too. My dad’s the chief, you know?”

“Allllright, buddy. That’ll do for now. Back into the truck with you.”

“BYE, KURT!” Adrian squeaked as his dad scooped him up and jogged to catch up with his vehicle, swinging up onto the side and maneuvering his son into the passenger seat through the open window. He hopped back down and came back to Kurt for one last moment, bending down and kissing him on the cheek.

“I meant what I said, Kurt.”

Kurt grabbed his wrist where Blaine’s fingers were resting under his chin. He leaned up quickly, so he couldn’t second guess himself and kissed Blaine on the lips, soft and slow, lingering long enough to elicit a whistle from his dad. Delightful. “I’m still here.”

“I’m still waiting.”

And with that, he stood, and jogged back to his crew, grabbing his bucket and tossing candy to the kids, as if nothing had happened. As if kissing a random man in the crowd was part of his job.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Look at how big that lollipop is, Kurt! You’re lucky!” Olivia was virtually drooling over it, her eyes as big as the confection.

“Yeah, but you got a hat.”

“Yes, I did.” She wiggled herself taller and patted the top of her hatted head. “But you…you got a KISS!”

“Yes. Yes I did. Looks like I win.”

“That’s alright. I got a hat.”

***

_Blaine [08-05-23 11:45]: I don’t like kids, Blaine. I border on hating kids, Blaine. Who’s Olivia, Mr. Hummel?_

_Kurt [08-05-23 11:48]: Hell if I know. I guess she’s a new neighbor of my dad’s. Attached herself to me before the parade started._

_Blaine [08-05-23 11:49]: I think Adrian’s in love. He won’t shut up about her and her yellow hair._

_Kurt [08-05-23 11:51]: Good luck with that. I don’t even know her parents or why they weren’t at the parade._

_Blaine [08-05-23 11:52]: You guys going to the festival?_

_Kurt [08-05-23 11:55]: No. Too much for Dad. Walking back to the car now and going to their place for lunch. You?_

_Blaine [08-05-23 11:56]: Yes. He has to ride the ferris wheel or life as we know it will end._

_Kurt [08-05-23 12:05]: Sorry. Had to get Dad in the car. Have a good time. And…thanks for the lollipop._

_Blaine [08-05-23 12:07]: Thanks for the kiss._

_***_

“So, that darling little boy in the firefighter’s uniform is the chief’s son?”

Kurt flipped the chicken on the grill, chuckling at Carole – never one to pussy foot around. “Yes. Adrian. Speaking of, I understand he’s now in love with Olivia, so you might want to tell her parents to lock her up or something.”

“So…you’ve spoken to him already? Since the parade? We’ve been back for 10 minutes.”

“Text. When we were walking back to the car.” Kurt stepped back so Carole could brush barbeque sauce on the chicken, shooting her a warning glare that he was just about at his limit with the Hummel Inquisition. “Stop looking at me like that, Carole.”

“I don’t understand you, Kurt. You have enough love to spread around to a freaking orphana-…”

“Stop. I mean it.” Kurt sighed and poked at the meat on the grill even though he was a firm believer of letting it be to get a better sear. Eye contact would mean dagger tossing and he really, really did not want to toss daggers at Carole. “Look. I’m scared. I’m confused. I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t think any of those traits are really conducive to being in a relationship with a man who’s raising a child, okay?”

“You don’t think every parent on the planet doesn’t go into it with those exact feelings, Kurt?”

“I have no idea what every parent on the planet feels. In fact, I don’t even _care_. I’m concerned about me. And about Blaine. And when you mix in that impish little miniature fireman – who has flirting down to a complete _science,_ I might add – I can’t filter out anything coherent, intelligent or responsible.”

“Yet you kissed him.”

“Yet I kissed him. Yes. Thank you for the ace reporting. Is there a point to this because really? With all due respect, this just isn’t any of your business.”

“Kurt! Come over here…”

Kurt winced at his father’s bark, having forgotten his dad sitting behind them at the table. Even at 29 years of age, that tone sent cold ice down his back. He was in trouble.

“Carole, I’m sorry. And, I think the chicken’s done.” He handed her the tongs and sulked over to his dad, pouring himself a drink and sitting down. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Ah, she can take your lip. I’m not worried about that…although _I_ don’t particularly like you talking to my wife that way.”

“I know. I just…I’m tired of thinking about it. Sometimes I just want to go back to New York and pretend like these last few weeks never happened.”

“So, go. No one asked you to come.”

“Dad…” It would figure that a moment Burt was lucid, a moment he actually remembered Kurt didn’t live in New York anymore, would be a moment Kurt needed to have his ass handed to him. Pre- or post-illness, his dad was always up for that task.

“I mean it, Kurt. I’m glad you’re here. You help Carole see things she wouldn’t see. You help us understand what the doctors are telling us and while I want you happy, I’ll always prefer you closer rather than farther away. But, you know – we’d make it fine without you.”

“Great. That’s helpful.”

“How long have you known this guy?”

“I don’t know? Four? Five weeks maybe? Half of which was a fairy tale that will never be repeated.”

“Oh, cut the melodrama. Do you really believe that parents stop having sexy times? That spontaneity goes out the door? That lazy mornings and dates all just disappear just because there’s a kid around?”

“No? Yes? I have…Dad. This isn’t about sex.”

“I should hope not, but…I guess I don’t get the big damned deal.”

“I _like_ my life without the responsibility that comes from having a kid. I like being able to come and go without having to call a sitter. I like not having to worry about the semi-annual barf bug that swings through town. I like that the money I make is mine and doesn’t have to be socked away into a kid’s college fund. I like my life being…mine.”

“You’ve liked these last few weeks without that handsome man? Who, I might add, is _crazy_ about you?”

“No.” Kurt sighed and wished his lemonade, as he took a long drink of it, would magically turn into alcohol. “It took one date. One evening. One movie marathon to know that he was someone I never wanted to be without. One. I’ve been miserable. Until he texts me corny puns or sends me flowers…did I tell you he’s been sending me roses?”

“I’m lucky I remember to put pants on every day, Kurt. You might have.”

“Point is…no. I’ve not liked these weeks without him and I don’t anticipate it getting any better.”

“He’s kind?”

“The most kind.”

“Responsible?”

“Obviously.”

“He makes you laugh?”

“Yes…I get it. I get it, Dad but it’s just not that easy.”

“I’m going to say one more thing and then you’re going to go inside, slop me up a plate of potato salad and chicken and we’re not going to talk about this anymore.”

“Should I take notes?”

“Don’t be a smart ass. And yes, maybe you should.”

“I miss you, Dad…” Kurt reached out and took his dad’s hand, smiling sadly when their eyes met. Oh, how he missed _this_ man. And the worst part? He didn’t know when or if he’d ever see him again.

“I miss me, too.” With a squeeze of his hand, Burt shifted in his wheelchair and locked his cap on tighter. “Here’s how I see it, Kurt. I know how your mind works and I see how you’re calculating everything. But, you need to stop.”

“Just turn it off.”

“Yes. Kurt, you need to forget _all_ the reasons why you think it won’t work with this man and start believing in all the reasons that it will.”

Kurt took a long drink of his lemonade and studied the pulp floating around the glass. “There are quite a few of those, aren’t there?”

“From this viewpoint there are.” Kurt sat up straight and took a deep breath of resolve. “And, Kurt, for whatever it’s worth? I think you’d be an amazing presence in that little boy’s life, too. If for no other reason – you’d make his daddy a very, very happy man. And a happy dad makes for a happy kid. You of all people should know that.”

***

_Blaine [08-05-23 10:42]: If there was a bi-sexual pride parade, would it go both ways?_

_Kurt [08-05-23 22:43]: Are you kidding me right now?_

_Blaine [08-05-23 10:44]: Okay, how about this one. What do you get when you cross a rooster and peanut butter? This is an easy one._

_Kurt [08-05-23 22:45]: Okay, let me think…_

_Blaine [08-05-23 10:45]: *sings the Jeopardy theme*_

_Kurt [08-05-23 22:48]: Oh my god…is it this simple? A cock that sticks to the roof of your mouth?_

_Blaine [08-05-23 10:49]: DING DING DING! Unfortunately, I don’t have a huge monetary prize for you._

_Kurt [08-05-23 22:50]: You’re making me think very unclean thoughts, Chief Anderson._

_Blaine [08-05-23 10:52]: You shouldn’t have kissed me. It obviously gives you a dirty mind._

_Kurt [08-05-23 22:55]: I probably shouldn’t have…_

_Blaine [08-05-23 10:55]: Oh._

_Kurt [08-05-23 22:58]: I’m just cloudy._

_Blaine [08-05-23 11:00]: Then I’ll try to bring a little sunshine._

_Kurt [08-05-23 23:01]: You do, Blaine. Every damned day._

_Blaine [08-05-23 11:03]: Good night, Kurt._

_Kurt [08-05-23 23:04]: Good night, Blaine._


	14. Chapter Thirteen

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:18]: How do you get four old ladies to shout “Fuck”?_

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:19]: Good morning to you too!_

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:19]: Come on now, this one’s from my dad._

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:21]: Okay, okay. I don’t know, Kurt. How DO you get four old ladies to shout Fuck?_

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:22]: Get a fifth old lady to shout “Bingo!”_

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:24]: Haha! And it’s true! We had BINGO at our station for a few years in Findley. Those old broads…foul. FOUL I tell you!_

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:25]: I went a few times with my grandma. She always swore everyone else was cheating._

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:27]: How do you cheat at a game of luck?_

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:29]: I’ll never know._

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:31]: Okay, this one’s from Adrian and then we have to go. He has a play date and he’s about to pee himself that I’m not moving fast enough DAD!_

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:32]: Hit me. I need to get cracking on these spec sets anyway…_

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:33]:_ _How do you organize a space party?_

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:33]: I have no idea…_

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:35]: You planet._

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:36]: Boooo, Adrian. Boooo!!!_

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:37]: He’s quite proud of himself. Have a good day!_

_Kurt [08-06-23 9:38]: You too. BINGO!_

_Blaine [08-06-23 9:39]: FUCK!_

_***_

If the word _catastrophe_ had yet to be defined, Blaine decided, this would be it.

Bath Township had a multi-unit fire, something had gone down with their chain of command and they were short. They called a third alarm and Lima City was in line to assist. For such a large fire, Blaine was on-call. Period. The only way out of it was if he had been out of town or on vacation. Sundays were not a day off with multi-units or multi-alarm fires and this was both.

So, he’d started making his calls for child care. The neighbor lady who said _any evening, any weekend, Blaine; I’m yours_ and had proven herself numerous times, wasn’t this time. The daycare teacher who said _if it’s an emergency, give me a call_ was headed to a funeral. The play date family had already taken off for their afternoon errands. The two wives at the station who helped with crew members’ kids were unavailable.

He tried the Findley brigade next. His mom was feeling unwell, which was probably a load of bull, but he didn’t have time or energy to go into it and Maggie’s folks were heading up some campaign for her church and couldn’t help even though they apologized profusely. The very, very, _very_ back-up sitters in Findley were all otherwise occupied, especially on such short notice.

He could think of only one other person to call. And it was the person he promised he’d never, ever, ever, at any time, ever, ever, _ever_ call for babysitting duties.

But, this was a catastrophe after all, and while he stood there trying to pull other options out of the depths of his ass, and while Adrian sat in his office obliviously drawing…something, the fire continued to roll and there was no chief or incident commander anywhere.

Cat-as-tro-phe. “I’m going to regret this for the rest of my life.”

“What?” Adrian missed nothing. Unless it was a reminder to brush his teeth.

“Nothing. I, um…what do you think about Kurt?”

“He’s nice. He kissed you at the parade yesterday.”

Blaine closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course he saw that. “Yes. Yes he did. If he’s available would you be willing to play with him today?”

“Yep.”

 _If he’s willing. If he doesn’t destroy me with that glare of his that could blast holes through cement walls. If he doesn’t pack up and never again say_ I’m still here _. This? Is a catastrophe._

Blaine dialed the number anyway.

“Yeah, hello?”

“Kurt?”

“Blaine?”

“Yeah, hi. I know I’m not supposed to call and I know you’re working and I probably just interrupted and I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important and desperate and a complete fucking…”

“DAD!”

“Sorry, dude. A complete _freaking_ catastrophe, but I need…I swore I’d never do this, and I meant it, but there’s a…shit…are you on call today?”

“Woah. Breathe. Are you asking…am I on call?”

“Yes.”

“No. Something big going on?”

“A multi-unit in Bath. And I don’t even have time to go into it all and I swore I’d never call you for this ever, ever and…I’m completely and totally out of options and I have to get there in negative time.”

Kurt sighed and was silent. It was really loud. And had to last at least 25 minutes. In Blaine Catastrophe Time. “You need someone to watch Adrian.”

“I do. And I’m sorry. And if it wasn’t my last resort…do you _know_ how many calls I’ve made to avoid this?”

More silence. Long silence. God damn, silence was LOUD. “Where is he?”

“Um. Right here. At the station.”

“Can I bring him back here? I really am busy…and will he occupy himself with…something?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes. He has his bag of stuff and Lt. Parker is here and will give you the security code to get into my house if you want to go get more stuff…which is probably a good idea and…take him anywhere.” Blaine was on the move, out of his office, and downstairs, out of breath at relief, at leftover anxiety, at shifting gears from Dad to Chief to…head honcho of Kurt’s shoot-to-kill list. “He’s…sort of used to adapting wherever he is.”

“I need half an hour – can he stay with Lt. Parker for a bit?”

“Yes. He just can’t for long in case we get another call. Which…” Blaine suited up and grabbed the keys to his department SUV, planning to meet the crew there. “…will probably happen because that’s how shit goes down.”

“I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Thank you. You have no ide-…”

“Just…go.”

“Right. Thank you.”

Kurt disconnected and Blaine knew there was going to be one hell of a conversation when this was all over with. With no more time to spare he whistled for Adrian to come to the garage.

“Kurt will be here in 30 minutes. That’s like one episode of Franklin, okay?”

“Okay. Be safe, Daddy.”

“I will. You behave with him…”

Adrian rolled his eyes and waved. “I _know_.”

_He knows. He does. He’s a good kid. He’s spent the last year and a half of his life being shifted around from caregiver to caregiver and he was fine. Every time._

“Kurt is going to kill me.”

***

“I’m going to _kill_ him.”

Kurt tossed his phone on his table, ignoring the flying tissue when it landed. He was busy. He was nowhere _near_ ready to deal with this child – darling or not – one on one. He didn’t have the time, the fortitude or frankly the desire to do it either. This is _exactly_ why he did not date men with children. He was not a babysitter and polite or not, respectful of his wishes or not, it always happened.

“God. Dammit.”

But, here he was, gathering his work into semi-neat piles so he could bring this kid back to his place, figure out some way to engage him in an activity so he could get at least one, preferably two more spec kits completed. He _had_ to go to New York later in the week. He _had_ to get this shit done.

“He’s lucky he’s so fucking hot.”

It was a multi-unit fire; Blaine was going to be gone for hours. That meant he had to feed the child. Get him ready for bed maybe? Entertain. He had to entertain a freaking five year old little boy, whom he knew _nothing_ about. For hours.

“ _I’m still waiting_ , he says with a god damned lollipop in his hand. A rainbow lollipop. Jesus.”

And before day’s end, Kurt Hummel was going to know more about Adrian Anderson than he knew about any other kid on the planet. Whether he wanted to or not.

“Yep. I’m going to kill him.”

***

“So then…the monster comes in! He’s got his claws out and his teeth are sharp and he’s roaring. ROARING! And somehow…somehow, Kurt!” Adrian took a breath, his first in at least 10 paragraphs of monologue, and looked over to his driver with great patience. “Are you listening Kurt?”

“I am! I am! I’m also trying to figure out why the traffic has stopped.” Kurt looked over at his charge for the afternoon and smiled, his nerves, his anger slowly melting away at this child’s enthusiasm in every single breath he takes. “So, the monster is roaring and baring his teeth…then what?”

“THEN! Oh my goodness. Then, he starts taking people out. BUT! Only the bad guys! How does he know, Kurt? How.does.he.KNOW?”

“I don’t know how he knows…do you?”

“NO! But he knows. He looks at one guy and you can see. It’s so cool! You can see his…his…skin? Scales? Stuff…you can see it, like, soften? And his eyes go all nice and he lets him go. And he lets a lady go and then he sees one of the bad guys and BAM. Takes him out!”

“Takes him out, how? Ah, now we’re moving…”

“He has like these huge spiky mallet things on his hands. They only show up when he swings his arms? And WHAM.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes. Ouch.” Adrian took a breath and sat back against his seat, exhausted from his story. “I want a monster.”

“You want a monster? You have people you need to take out?”

“No. Well. Hrm. Not really. There was a kid who lived near me at my old house that was kind of mean. But, I just got a grown up when he’d…say stuff.”

“That’s a good idea. So why do you want a monster?”

“It would be fun to scare him. And only _I_ would know that the monster was really nice…only mean to the mean people.”

“Sounds like…have you seen _Monsters, Inc_?”

“YES! Like Sully!”

“Just like Sully. He was a good monster.”

“I want a good monster.” Adrian thought for a moment and Kurt enjoyed the split second of silence. “But…they’re not real.”

“No, but you know what we could do today when I’m done with work?”

“What?” The car stopped and Adrian looked up and around. “Is this your house? It’s…there’s a bunch of garages.”

“It’s an apartment? I live in this one and other people live in the other ones.”

“Oh. My friend Toby lives in a ‘partment.”

“Help me carry your things in, okay?”

“You have-ta help me out of my seat first.”

“Oh. Sure.” Kurt got out and made his way around to the passenger side of the car. “Sorry, buddy. I’m, um…you’re my first.”

“Your first what?” Adrian pointed at the hook he needed help with and smiled when Kurt unsnapped it without a problem.

“Kid…thing. I’ve never…I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’ve never spent much time with kids.”

“Oh my goodness. Well. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I know you will. But, if I seem like I don’t know what I’m doing…it’s because I don’t.”

“That’s okay. I’m only 5. I never know what I’m doing.”

Kurt laughed and took Adrian’s hand, helping him hop out of the car. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

They gathered all of Adrian’s belongings, collected from his house after much negotiation and reminders that _we’re only going to be at my house a few hours, not a few days_ and headed inside.

“Oooh, your house is pretty, Kurt.”

“Thank you. Go ahead and put all but your drawing stuff there on the couch and we’ll get a snack and go upstairs.”

“You said we could do something today after you worked? What can we do?”

“OH! Well, when I’m working, I want you to draw the monster you want. Or a bunch of monsters and we can pick one. Then, we can make him.”

“ _Make_ him? How?”

“With fabric and stuffing – like a doll. A toy.”

Adrian gasped. “You can _do_ that!?”

“I can. Well, with your help. Does that sound like a good idea?”

“Oh my goodness! Yes! I want to make a hundred monsters!”

“Let’s start with one, huh?”

“Oh. Yes. One is good. Whatcha got for snacks? I’m hungry.”

“Not much. Fruit, mostly.”

“Peaches?”

“Yes. Peaches.”

“Peaches that smell peachy are the peachiest. Daddy says that every time we go to the store now.”

Yes, Kurt thought, he was definitely going to kill Blaine. Or kiss. Really, at the moment, he wasn’t sure of the difference.

***

Kurt was finally settled at his sewing machine and Adrian was diligently working on his monster designs, although it had taken some doing to get there. The questions. This child could ask questions about things that weren’t even curious.

“Why isn’t there a wall here?” when asking about his office space which was a loft over the kitchen, looking down into the living room. And even better, “Do you ever throw things off of here?” The answer was _no and neither will you,_ much to Adrian’s chagrin.

Also, “Are these the flowers from Daddy?” which was followed by, “Is he your boyfriend?” To which Kurt answered, _What would you think about that? If your dad was my boyfriend?_

Adrian’s answer was quick, without thought. “I think that’d be pretty okay.” And then he followed with, “Dad said they all mean something special…what do they mean?” and instead of going through the meanings of eight different flowers – yes, Blaine had sent _eight_ so far – he just said _it means your dad seems to think I’m pretty spectacular._

“I don’t know what _that_ word means, but I do know my dad usually isn’t wrong.”

And then there was, “Why does your desk slant like that? Doesn’t all your stuff fall off?” But, when Kurt told him his drafting table was to help him draw better, Adrian decided it was the best desk design ever on the planet of EVER and he had to use it to design his monsters.

So that’s where he was now, drawing away, narrating now and then, seemingly content with Kurt’s properly timed _uh huh_ ’s and _I bet_ ’s and _that’s pretty cool_ ’s.

The best part? Kurt was getting shit done. He only had to hem pants to complete one spec kit and cut out the second and that wouldn’t take him long. He could work a pair of scissors and a pile of fabric like it was his job. Which, conveniently enough, it was.

This kid business? Not so bad.

“Okay, Kurt. Can you look at my pi’ture?”

Kurt lifted a finger to garner a moment while finishing his final seam, clipping threads and pulling the pants out of the machine. With a snap, he lifted them to check his overall work. “What do you think, Adrian? Do they look like a pair of pants?”

“They’re a funny color.”

Kurt tilted his head at the coral cotton and agreed. “Not my choice either, but I don’t make those decisions.” He neatly folded them and took Adrian’s paper, covered in monsters, buildings, various vehicles – it was like an action movie had barfed in colored pencils and markers all over the page. “Tell me about this…there’s a lot going on here!”

“I know!” And Adrian spun his story in great detail, crawling up on Kurt’s lap to share an equal view, never missing a breath even when he let out a huge belch and an _excuse me_ which only made Kurt laugh and Adrian glare because he was clearly no longer paying attention. By the time his tale was over, Kurt was winded and amazed and decidedly infatuated with this child.

“Can you pick, after all of that great art work, just _one_ of these monsters for us to make? Do you have a favorite one?”

“I think. I like this guy with the four arms.”

“Okay. I want you to get a new sheet and draw just him. Like…here…” Kurt pulled up some of the original illustrations he works with at the beginning of a collection. “Like this. Just the monster, nothing else. And make him big so we can get all the details. Color him in, too. In fact…” He patted Adrian’s thighs and lifted himself up, catching him as he slid off his lap. “…let me show you something.”

Kurt disappeared into a dark corner of the studio and came back, dragging an enormous wooden container. “If you need ideas on colors, look in here first.” He lifted the lid and Adrian’s eyes grew three times their normal size.

“It’s like a treasure chest of fabric!!”

“It is! You can use anything in here, so long as it’s big enough for what we need. And in a little bit, I’ll have more scraps because I’m cutting something out, okay?”

“Oh my goodness!” Adrian started digging into the box, mumbling to himself, plotting and planning, accepting and rejecting and Kurt couldn’t resist squatting down to help out. There was something oddly thrilling about sifting through fabrics, the colors, the textures and for Kurt, the flashes of memory of when he used them. “This is awesome, Kurt!”

“ _You’re_ awesome.”

“I know.”

Kurt went back to work and Adrian sifted and drew and stopped to dig some more and stuck the closed end of a marker in his mouth to think and create. He’d toss more fabric around and Kurt was almost done cutting, and damn if these two weren’t a team. When Kurt had snipped his final piece, he dumped his scraps into the box and Adrian looked to see if it was usable, his eyes shifting to the wall just behind Kurt.

“Kurt…is that…” He hopped off of his stool and stepped over the pile of fabrics that had accumulated on the floor and pointed to a small picture on the wall. “I have that in my bedroom, Kurt! How do you have it too?”

Kurt spun and looked and his heart skipped a beat. He swallowed and took the picture down, scooping Adrian up to sit on the overstuffed chair that filled the corner of his otherwise office-looking studio. “Does your picture have these funny words on it, too?”

Adrian looked at the drawing and then the words. “No. I can read some of the words on mine, but I don’t know these words.”

The picture was the famous cover of _The Little Prince_ and the quote below was in the original French. In fact, this picture was largely why he’d chosen to take French in high school – so he could read the book as it was written and understand it as it was meant to be understood. “Mine was a gift a long time ago…” Kurt took a breath and lifted Adrian’s chin to look at him and not the picture. “…when my mom died.”

Adrian gasped and looked back at the picture and then at Kurt again, smiling sadly. “Your mom died too!?”

Kurt nodded and combed his fingers through Adrian’s hair, the mood in the room having completely shifted from fantastical monsters to blistering reality. “I was eight. And a friend of hers thought these words might help me not feel so sad.”

“What does yours say?”

“Well, it’s in a different language…”

“Say them anyway.”

“It says, _Quand tu regarderas le ciel, la nuit, puisque j’habiterai dans l’une d’elles, puisque je rirai dans l’une d’elles, alors ce sera pour toi comme si riaient toutes les étoiles.”_

“That’s so pretty…mine’s just normal words. What does it mean?”

“It means that she will be living in one of the stars and laughing. And when I look at the stars, all the stars will laugh. And…” Kurt read over the last portion to himself, trying to remember the exact quote.

“Mine ends with _You, only you, will have stars that can laugh._ I ‘member that part because Daddy reads it to me every night before we turn out the lights.”

“Yes. So, they say the same thing, don’t they?”

“Yes. Oh my goodness. So, Kurt?”

“Adrian?”

“I think maybe you and me should be friends.”

“I think we already are.”

Adrian smiled and leaned into Kurt’s arm. “Read it to me again. The French words are pretty.”

“ _Quand tu regarderas le ciel, la nuit, puisque j’habiterai dans l’une d’elles, puisque je rirai dans l’une d’elles, alors ce sera pour toi comme si riaient toutes les étoiles.”_


	15. Chapter Fourteen

They worked feverishly on Adrian’s as-yet-to-be-named monster, drawing pattern pieces and cutting the shapes out of fabric. Adrian helped push the pedal when Kurt would stitch pieces together on the sewing machine, and Kurt let Adrian draw the details he’d later stitch over so it would really be Adrian’s work. And then there were the giggles when the thread would catch in the bobbin or when Adrian was convinced a rectangular piece would never, ever, ever in a million bajillion years become an arm only to be proven with a few stitches that yes, indeed one shape could turn into another. The main portion of the monster was done, only needing to be stuffed and closed up when Adrian announced he was starving.

They went back to Blaine’s house for dinner because he had better kid choices. Tonight’s choice was sloppy joes. After an explanation that sloppy joe sauce didn’t always come from a can, Adrian left Kurt to it and settled in to watch a DVD. Kurt reveled in the quiet, soothed by the sounds of sizzling beef, the repetitive action of chopping vegetables, and the simple pleasure of cooking in someone else’s kitchen.

He had just put the skillet on to simmer when he heard a strange racket from the living room. Peeking in, he caught Adrian attempting to climb a bookshelf. An enormously tall, heavy, most-likely antique bookshelf. Everything perched on the upper shelves wobbled and shook even with Adrian’s slight weight.

“Adrian! Get down from there!”

Kurt didn’t have to make it across the room before Adrian scurried down, bashfully shrugged and sat back down to his movie. No more words were shared and Kurt went back to the kitchen. A few moments later, the racket began again. A sharp _Adrian_ and an fiery glare from Kurt got him down the second time, but the third time, Kurt said nothing. Adrian was so deep in concentration at getting to the top of the bookshelf that when Kurt’s hands grabbed at his waist, Adrian squeaked and stiffened, almost causing both of them to topple backwards.

“Woah! Buddy! Hang on…I’ve got you.” Adrian spun around in Kurt’s arms and buried his face in his neck. “What’s going on with you? You’re going to get hurt…”

“I’m sorry…I just…”

Kurt stepped back from the bookcase to look up to the topmost shelf and then he saw it. “Oh…I think I see. Here…” Kurt squatted down, putting Adrian on the floor. “Climb up on my shoulders. Let’s get that down a safe way, okay?”

Adrian straddled Kurt’s neck and giggled as Kurt stood. “Oh my goodness, I’m SUPER tall now!”

“You are…now be careful not to knock anything else off…”

Adrian cautiously plucked the framed photograph off of the back of the shelf and hugged it close as Kurt lowered him to the floor. “I wanted to show you my mom…but Daddy put this up too high.”

Kurt took hold of the photo, Maggie, Adrian and Blaine in much happier, healthier days, Adrian sporting extra baby fat and a lot less hair. “She’s very pretty, Adrian.”

"Yes. She’s an angel now. And your mom’s an angel too?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Yes. And you know daddy. He’s…he’s not an angel.”

Kurt laughed and Adrian missed his joke, but smiled with him anyway. “No, he’s not. Your dad is most definitely _not_ an angel.”

Hearing it put that way, Adrian got it and laughed too, still looking at the picture leaning into a kiss Kurt was putting on his temple before Kurt even realized he was doing it. “She was sick. She wore pretty scarves on her head when she was sick.” He sighed and touched her face, then Blaine’s. “Was your mom sick?”

“Not like yours, no. She was sick, but really fast. She didn’t have to wear scarves on her head or anything.”

Adrian nodded and put the picture on the bottom shelf. “D’ya think Daddy can keep this where I can see it?”

“I think you need to ask him. He misses her too, so not seeing her picture might be easier for him.”

“Maybe we could put it in my room?”

“Maybe…you talk to him. He’ll listen.”

“I’m sorry I climbed on the bookshelf.”

“That’s okay. Just tell me if you need something next time.”

“I need sloppy joes.”

“Hey! I _have_ sloppy joes!”

“You do?!”

Kurt scooped Adrian up like a sack of potatoes and carried him into the kitchen as the boy squealed and squawked, still giggling as he took his first bite of _homemade_ sloppy joes. The trick to getting kids to eat some vegetables, Kurt decided, was trickery and distraction.

***

As they finished, Blaine called and upon questioning Kurt’s sincerity that everything was going well, Kurt put him on speaker and laid the phone on the table. “Tell him Adrian. How are things going?”

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Hey buddy. Kurt says you’re having fun, huh?”

“Yes. We made a monster!”

“You made a mon-…how did you make a monster?”

“With fabric from Kurt’s treasure chest. And stuffing and it looks like my pi’ture!”

“Wow. Did you let Kurt work?”

“Yes. ‘cept we can’t talk now, Dad. We hav-ta stuff it and stitch up its belly. We’re busy.”

“Oh. Well. Ex- _cuse_ me! I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

Kurt shooed the boy back to the living room so he could clean up, taking the phone off speaker. “See? O ye of little faith.”

“You’re the one who painted a picture of some tyrant who hated any human under 4 feet tall.”

“That’s enough. So, what’s happening with the fire? It’s too quiet for you to still be there.”

“Just got back to the station. We need to do a debriefing and I smell like…well, an apartment fire, so I need to shower before I’m stuck in a car with myself. There were four townships involved, so it’s still going to be awhile.”

“So, I need to get him to bed?”

“If you…do you want me to send Mrs. Harris over? She’s available now.”

“No, no. We’re good. He doesn’t need another caretaker shift.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Kurt.”

“Well, when you…do you think you’ll have any energy to talk when you get home?”

“To you? Yes. I’ll buy some on the way home if I have to.”

“Okay. Because…we need to talk and I guess I’d like to do it sooner rather than later.” Blaine was quiet for a moment and Kurt tried to find words to fill the space, but really – it all needed to wait. Instead, they talked about Adrian’s bedtime routine and said their goodbye’s, Kurt suddenly buzzing with anxiety. Anxiety he could not allow Adrian to see.

***

“See, Kurt. Here’s my pi’ture like yours.” Adrian pulled the frame off of its hook and plopped down on his bed next to Kurt. “I know that says _star_ and that one is _stars_ and…that one’s _sky_ and _stars_ again, and the last word is _laugh._ ”

“I love languages. In the French one, the last word is _stars._ ”

“But they say the same thing?”

“Yes, we just put our words in a different order.”

“Read it to me. Like Daddy does.”

“ _In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars will be laughing when you look at the sky at night._ Say the last part with me since you know it.”

“ _You, only you, will have stars that can laugh.”_

“So…we both have laughing stars, huh?”

“We do. Scoot down in bed now.” Kurt leaned to grab the book Adrian had picked but the boy stayed put and crossed his arms around his new monster.

“I don’t want to lay down.”

“You can sit up as I read….whatever you normally do.”

“No, I mean, I don’t want to go to bed. Kurt…I don’t _like_ sleeping.”

They stared each other down and a flicker of fear in Adrian’s eyes pulled Kurt out of the potential stand-off. “I’ve got an idea.” Kurt held out his arms for Adrian to climb into and he swung him on his hip, the oversized fire department t-shirt Ade wore as a night shirt getting twisted around his skinny little body.

“Where are we going?”

“Outside…but not to play.”

Adrian rested his head on Kurt’s shoulder as they walked, exhaustion from a full day taking over his body whether he liked it or not. “Kurt, I’m not supposed to go back outside after I have my ‘jamas on.”

“Well, tonight we’re going to break the rules.” Kurt settled onto the chaise Blaine had used the night after the fatality. There was comfort here and Kurt suddenly realized why. “You cozy?”

“Yes. And confused.” He squeezed into Kurt tighter, the green spikes of his monster’s head popping out from under his chin.

“Look up. It’s a clear night.”

Adrian stayed curled up to Kurt, but looked up at the night sky and sucked in a tiny breath understanding everything with one glance. “Oh my goodn-…which one is Mommy’s?”

“I think that’s up to you.”

Adrian looked around, having silent conversations with every star his eyes landed on, moving to another, going back to a previous and finally settling on one in the eastern portion of their view. There really weren’t many visible since Blaine lived so close to the city’s center, but there were enough to make this work. “That one.”

Kurt followed Adrian’s finger to the brightest star in the area, figuring that was his choice. “I think that’s a good one.”

“Which one is your mommy’s?”

“Here’s what I’m thinking, Ade…I think since you and I are friends? That your mom and my mom are friends now too. So, what about that softer one nearby?”

“I think you’re right. Do you…do you think they’re watching us?”

“And laughing. And smiling. And telling all sorts of stories about us.”

“Do you still miss her?”

“Every day. Not like I did when I was young, but yes. It’s a happy feeling now, though.”

“Missing her is happy? I never feel happy when I miss Mommy.”

“You will one day. I know that she’s seen every good thing in my life and has helped me through every rotten thing. And at night? She’s watching over me. It’s a happy feeling.”

“I miss her hugs.”

“I always missed how she smelled. I’d open up my mom’s dresser drawers and lay on the floor. After awhile, it just smelled like cedar, not like mom, but I still tried.”

Adrian yawned and snuggled closer somehow – if he got any closer, he’d be behind Kurt. “I think I’m ready to go to bed now.”

Kurt wriggled himself up, under the sleep-heavy boy, carrying him and his monster to his room, trying not to trip up the stairs, feeling like Adrian gained an extra pound with every step, with every blink closer to sleep. He tucked Adrian in and kissed his forehead. “Thanks for a fun night, Adrian.”

“Thanks for my monster. And my star.”

“Can you do me a favor as you sleep?”

“What?”

“When you see your mom in your dreams?…”

Adrian’s eyes popped open and he gasped. “Oh my goodness, hoow do you _know_??”

Kurt smiled and continued. Adrian knew how he knew. “Even if she doesn’t talk back to you…ask her to say _hi_ to my mom, okay?”

“What’s her name?”

“Elizabeth. Dad called her Lizzie.”

“I’ll ask Mommy to say _hello_ to Lizzie…for my friend Kurt.”

“…for your friend Kurt. Goodnight, sweetie.”

***

Kurt grabbed a blanket and got comfortable on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels. His mind was mush, his heart was mushier and now that everything had stilled and quieted, the only sensation that was functioning was scent. And this house? Smelled of Blaine. Hints of his cologne, the slightest whisper of smoke that permeated everything he wore no matter how often he washed it, and a scent Kurt could only describe as _fresh_? _Clean_? Blaine. It just smelled like Blaine.

One second shy of Kurt getting up to find something to drink for the simple purpose of keeping his brain and his heart disconnected from his nose, Blaine walked in through the back door, hair damp and eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Hey…”

“Hey there, Hero.” Kurt threw the blanket off and Blaine put up a hand to stop him as he toed off his unlaced boots.

“No. Don’t get up. I’m landing.” He grabbed the blanket and tossed it back over Kurt, settling into the opposite end of the couch, sharing leg space and a smile. “How’d it go?”

“Fine. I actually had a great time.”

“No trouble at bedtime?”

“Nope. We had a nice talk about Maggie, though.”

“Oh? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. We decided our moms were friends now, so…she’s not alone up there.”

“I bet they are.”

“It’s a comforting thought anyway.” Kurt’s pulse was racing, trying to find the place to start. Trying to find the words to start. Trying to spill the thoughts that had been eating his brain for the past few weeks. Instead, all he could come up with was, “There’s leftover sloppy joe in the fridge for you.”

“Thank you.” Blaine raked his hands over his wet hair and sighed. “You know. Tell me about your night later. You said we needed to talk?”

“Yes. We do, but it can wait. You’re exhausted.”

“No.” Blaine sat up and crossed his legs, picking at the blanket before settling his eyes in the home of Kurt’s. “Go.”

Kurt sat up too and held his breath for a moment before speaking, the earnestness, the want, the _please tell me_ in Blaine’s eyes more than he could handle.

“Blaine…I can’t do this anymore.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

“What?” The word was but a ghost of breath and Kurt scurried to explain.

“I can’t-…”

“I knew I shouldn’t have called you.” Blaine tore his eyes away from Kurt’s turning into himself, alone with his desperate, pained thoughts. “I _knew_ I was closing any doors that might have been open. I should have tried…I should have pushed Bath to reset their chain…I shou-…”

“Blaine.” Kurt tried to reach forward, but Blaine pulled away, still trapped in himself.

“I never thought you’d…was I reading you wrong? Did I push too hard? Was I expecting the imposs-…”

“Blaine.” Kurt scooted across the couch, chasing Blaine’s hands as he pulled from him, running his fingers through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I…I fucked everything up. I thought maybe…after…I thought…”

Kurt finally caught an arm and held Blaine’s wrist. Hard. Tight. His eyes searching and grabbing for Blaine’s gaze. “Blaine. Stop. Look at me.”

“I just figured…I’m really…I thought we’d be o-…”

“Look. At. Me.”

Finally, finally – mostly by chance as Blaine’s eyes darted all over the room and skimmed by Kurt’s – he stopped. He held his breath. He looked and saw and Kurt had his attention. “Blaine. I’m. Still. Here.” Kurt wiggled his grip to Blaine’s hand lacing their fingers together. “But I can’t do…this…anymore. I can’t keep saying that and then walk away from you pretending like I’m not…” He had to catch his breath. He was a speeding freight train and wanted this to be heard. To count. “…like I’m not desperately in love with you.”

Blaine sucked in a breath and exhaled in a simple, raspy, “Oh.”

“These impossibly huge feelings I have for you…can’t be…they can’t be relegated to bad puns and flower deliveries anymore.”

“Oh. God.” Blaine brought Kurt’s hand up to his lips and started kissing each finger as Kurt talked, his feelings exploding like Mentos and Coke all over the place.

“I’ve been listing all the things that we loved – the sleepovers and the underwear dances and peach milkshakes and sleepy morning sex – trying to tell myself that just because you have this beautiful, amazing, created-with-the-most-perfect-love son we can’t do them anymore. And that’s ridiculous – I can’t _do_ that anymore. I can’t keep talking to myself like that.”

“We can still do all of those things…and more.”

“I know.” Kurt blinked and smiled, completely getting it. “I know. And I can’t wait to get started.”

Blaine opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out. A hint of a smile dusted his eyes, mirrored in Kurt’s. All he could utter was a whispered, “Me either,” against Kurt’s fingers.

Kurt looked at their knotted hands, still resting on Blaine’s lips and leaned in to kiss at Blaine’s knuckles, their noses brushing, cheeks blushing. “I want those warm blankets back and I want you back. Us. We’re too amazing together to walk alone anymore.” Their eyes lifted to the other’s in one breath.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Blaine pulled back a hair’s breadth and smiled, the relief, the joy slowly spreading across his face, landing in his eyes with a sparkle. “So.” Blaine dotted Kurt’s hands with a few more kisses, his eyes never leaving Kurt’s anxious gaze. “This is where I want to kiss you.”

Kurt mirrored Blaine’s broad smile, the memory of that night weeks ago when he had to say _no._ Kurt happily changed his answer. “This is where I say _yes_.”

With a tenderness Kurt had never experienced before, Blaine untangled their fingers and cradled his face, holding Kurt’s gaze as he breathed a soft _I love you_ before pressing his lips to Kurt’s. As the kiss deepened, Kurt could have sworn he felt the sea of blankets that had so unceremoniously been yanked off, envelope them again in warmth. In comfort. In peace.

***

Kurt pulled away first, breathless, both having been lost in time to the simple softness of the other’s lips, the warmth of their tongues, the gentle thrum of their hearts beating together again. They rested their foreheads together as Blaine traced the outline of Kurt’s jaw with a finger, sneaking it up to graze over the moist curve of his lips.

“Kurt. You’re still here.”

“I’m still here. And…I just want to love you.” He sat back a breath and brushed his fingers over Blaine’s cheek, capturing his wide-eyed gaze. “Now.” He kissed him softly for one more reassurance. “Can I? Love you?”

Blaine’s eyes darkened and he sighed a broken _yes_ and pressed a kiss to Kurt’s forehead and stood, taking his hands to join him. “Come on.”

They walked upstairs without a word, the steps of the old house creaking under their feet, their fingers laced together as Blaine lead the way, squeezing slightly as they approached Adrian’s door. “Just a minute.”

Kurt stood in the doorway and watched Blaine approach his son’s bed, a corner nightlight bathing the room in a soft blue hue. Blaine bent down to kiss his son’s temple and Adrian stirred sleepily, his voice hushed. “Daddy, you’re home.”

“I’m home. Thank you for helping me today.”

“Hmmm?”

“You had a nice time with Kurt. That’s important to me.”

“Mmm-kay.”

Blaine chuckled at the groggy boy and kissed him again, twirling a loose curl around his finger. “Love you, Buddy.”

“Love you too.”

As soon as Adrian’s door was latched, Blaine took Kurt’s hand again and lead him into his room. He closed the door behind them and in the darkness, took Kurt’s face in his hands again, capturing his lips as though he might never get the chance again. With a rush of push and pull, arms and tangled fabric, they rid themselves of their shirts, clinging together in wet sloppy kisses as they stumbled to the bed.

Blaine hit the mattress first, pulling Kurt down with him with an _oof_ and giggles, hands and fingers fumbling in the dark to shed shorts and pants, only to get caught up in belts and stuck zippers and stubborn hooks. “Jesus. Lights. Blind and desperate do not mix.”

Kurt found the bedside lamp and switched it on, a golden glow illuminating the room. He fell back onto Blaine scooping under his arms to bring their hips together, erections fitting together against their partially opened clothing. “Oh god, I’ve missed you.”

“Mmm…every day.”

They curled their bodies together, never close enough then pulling back to taste, to kiss, to suckle, and dive in again, perfect friction rutting and sliding more and more. “Missed us.” Kurt kissed and nipped his way down Blaine’s chest and abdomen, sliding off the bed to shed Blaine’s pants and briefs with one swift motion. His groan was deep to his toes, Blaine’s erection springing free.

Kurt sighed a _yes_ as he squatted down between his legs, snaking his tongue under the bend of Blaine’s knees, nipping, biting, sucking and licking up his thighs, one hand reaching up and taking hold of his cock, firm and warm, thick and heavy in his hand.

“You’re so beautiful.” Kurt couldn’t do enough. Couldn’t say enough. He had been such an ass, dragging this whole process out so long with self-doubt, with second guessing, with unnecessary uncertainty. He had to show him. Had to love him. Had to take care of him.

He stroked Blaine, gathering the moisture at the tip of his cock, twisting and soothing, using his other hand to cup and caress at his balls, kissing his hips, thighs, the crease between. With a nip to the top of his thigh, “Open your legs more, love…I want to taste you.”

“Ohhh, fuck…”

Kurt chuckled as Blaine’s curse turned into incoherency when Kurt pushed his thighs up, spreading him, nipping and licking his way at the roundness of Blaine’s ass and finally, languidly licked up the crack, circling, laving at his puckered hole. He abandoned Blaine’s cock to spread his cheeks apart, mouthing and licking at him as Blaine writhed beneath him, lifting his ass off the bed and Kurt just followed, letting him take him as he could.

He traced Blaine with a finger, slipping in knuckle deep, slick with spit and pulling out, replacing it with his tongue a slow switch of hard and soft, hard and soft, tonguing and fingering as Blaine slowly came unglued.

The intimacy, the delicacy with the passion, it all met with Kurt’s heart, wanting Blaine to understand, to know. He wanted all of him. He wanted to give him everything. With one final lap of his tongue over his balls, over the thick vein of Blaine’s cock, he peeked around with a wry grin, his fingers still circling and teasing at his hole. “Lube?”

Blaine breathlessly lifted his head, his eyes heavy lidded, his mouth slack and swollen from biting his lip trying not to cry out. With a heavy hand, he pointed to the bedside drawer. “I can’t move…”

“I’ve got it…” He took Blaine’s hand and wrapped it around his own cock, stroking with him, kissing the tip as it peeked through their hands. “I’ll be right back…keep…going.” He paused long enough to watch Blaine fist himself and licked his lips, words failing him at the gorgeous sight. He quickly found the lube and condoms and bent down to suck at Blaine’s neck, exposed and flexed as he jerked himself. “Kiss?”

“God, yes. C’mere.” Blaine grabbed at Kurt’s neck with his free hand, pulling him down, drawing his tongue into his mouth and groaning at the heady combination of Kurt, of him. Kurt pulled back and slicked his fingers with lube, fisting Blaine’s swollen erection with him as he crawled onto the bed.

“Scoot back.” Blaine settled higher on the bed, Kurt between his legs. Kurt swirled his tongue around the head of Blaine’s cock as it peeked through their fists on a down stroke, taking over as Blaine’s hand fell to the side, twisting in the sheets, fighting every urge not to thrust up into Kurt’s mouth. He slid his hand between Blaine’s legs, caressing, soothing, sinking one, then two lubed fingers into him, watching, listening, waiting for the resistance to ease before stroking in rhythm with his mouth.

Soon, he slipped a third finger in, Blaine’s hands buried in Kurt’s hair pushing him down onto his cock as Kurt relished in him, sucking and pulling, his tongue swirling between each stroke.

“Kurt…please. I need you.”

Kurt hummed around Blaine and pulled off with a sloppy, saliva strung pop. He eased his fingers free and grabbed at the condom he’d tossed on the bed and teethed it open, quickly sheathing himself. “I’m right here.”

Blaine’s hand landed on the lube bottle and he squirt some on Kurt’s cock, stroking him together. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Kurt hiked up on his knees and ran his hands up Blaine’s thighs and patted them. “Roll over.”

Blaine gave a sultry grin and rolled to his stomach, looking back as he hiked onto all fours, wiggling his ass as Kurt rubbed the roundness of it before pulling him closer by the hip. He drug his fingers down his crack one more time, slipping a couple in for the pure pleasure of it, sliding his dick up the cleft of Blaine’s ass. “My God, you are stunning.”

Blaine reached down and took hold of himself, cupping his balls and arching his back, opening himself more, his body begging. “Please…Kurt.”

“Fuck, Blaine.” And that was it. Kurt guided himself to his beautiful, slick-soaked hole and pushed in, hissing at the tightness, at the curves and ripples and sinew of Blaine’s back as he eased his body to fit.

“Now. Move. Oh, Jesus.”

With a slow drag and deep groans filling the room, Kurt pulled back and sunk back in, bottoming out and circling his hips before pulling out again, setting up a delicious, deliberate rhythm that Blaine matched on himself. Kurt watched as his cock slid into Blaine, stretching him as he hissed and moaned beneath him. Pulling back, he caressed Blaine’s ass and thighs, admiring every muscle, every curve.

As their pace increased, Kurt pulled at Blaine’s hips, bringing him closer and bent over his back, kissing and nipping at any skin his lips could find, dragging his fingers up his sweat-slicked abdomen. “You feel so right. So perfect.”

Blaine turned to kiss Kurt, lifting them both upright, curling his arm around Kurt’s neck, sinking his fingers into his hair as their tongues tasted and played in the small space between them, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm, give and take. Every bit of skin that could be touching was, back to chest, thigh on thigh, calf on shin and of course the white hot heat in the center of it all. The intensity overwhelming as Kurt stroked over Blaine’s prostrate with every few thrusts, whispering promises and apologies hot in his ear.

Blaine fell to all fours again, winded and wound tight, Kurt’s motions becoming more sharp. He grabbed at Blaine’s shoulder and pulled him back as he thrust deeper, harder, faster. More and more and Blaine’s ass was slamming against Kurt’s hips and it was all he could take as the tension coiled inside just aching for that luxurious release.

“Blaine…so close…” and Blaine reached back to pull Kurt in, digging his nails into his thighs as Kurt slammed into him one, two, three more times. Kurt bit back a shout, his orgasm ripping through his body, sweet, perfect release, filling Blaine as he snapped his hips with each wave.

He curled onto Blaine’s back again, breathless, ripples of pleasure easing through him as he slipped from Blaine’s body and they tumbled to their sides. Kurt wrapped himself against Blaine’s back, licking at the soft skin behind his ear and took hold of him, moaning at the thick weight in his hands. “Roll over. Let me take care of you…”

“No.” Blaine rolled to his back but pulled Kurt’s hand from him, combing his fingers through Kurt’s hair and kissing his furrowed brow.

“No?”

Blaine found the condoms and pulled one out, grinning. “You have the energy?”

Kurt groaned – a sound so animalistic he almost didn’t recognize it himself, his body still languishing in post-orgasmic bliss, but oh yes. More was absolutely fine. He grabbed the bottle of lube that rolled against his back and waited for Blaine to take the lead, sheathing himself, losing himself for moments at his own touch. “You’re amazing.”

“Because of you.” Blaine patted his thigh and stroked himself a few more times. “Hop on, love.”

Kurt grinned and straddled Blaine’s waist, coating his fingers as Blaine watched, mouth open, eyes tracing every inch of Kurt’s body. Kurt reached around to finger himself, sighing with broken breath as he sunk down on his own fingers, Blaine’s nails digging into his thighs.

As Kurt worked himself open, Blaine took hold of himself and Kurt’s cock, hardening again, stroking them together slick and hard and hot. “Damn…look at you, Kurt.”

Kurt smiled down, his body lithe yet strong, graceful yet powerful, the dichotomy, the combination intoxicating, enchanting, quite possibly the moments Blaine loved best – when he, and only he, could see the full of Kurt, inside out, outside in. He wanted all of him. He had him all.

“I’d rather look at you.” In one swift motion, Kurt lifted up and guided Blaine’s cock, slowly lowering himself down, guttural moans filling the room as he fully seated himself on his hips. “Fucking hell…”

And the dance began again, slow and measured, every motion worthy of time spent, every touch igniting the air. Kurt, tired and in need of Blaine’s arms around him, curled down, nuzzling in his neck as Blaine pistoned up into him slow and steady then ragged and desperate, his hands scratching down Kurt’s back, his moans and grunts filling Kurt’s ears, the whole of his senses.

Kurt sat back up, Blaine scooping his hands under Kurt’s thighs, holding him there, pushing harder and faster into him until his breath shifted, his eyes caught Kurt’s, watching him stroke himself, his body an undulating wave of movement over top of him, smooth and graceful, yet matching Blaine’s ragged pace, choreographed and true.

“Can you come again, baby?”

“Oh yeah…Christ, Blaine.”

In moments, in strokes they came together, frantic and pulsing, white hot heat in and around and through. As Kurt collapsed, Blaine held him in his arms, covering him with kisses, slicking their bodies together as they moved and breathed and tangled, melting into the sheets, into each other, landing breathless and blissed. Kurt settled next to him, legs twining, kisses slowing as they found purchase from their luxurious highs.

Kurt swirled his finger over Blaine’s belly, dragging a finger through a string of come on Blaine’s belly and sucked it clean. He chuckled as Blaine lead his finger to do it again, bringing it up to his mouth instead. He groaned, watching his finger disappear into Blaine’s mouth, the intimacy and sexiness of that simple act making him curl up even closer, wondering if it would ever be enough.

“God, I love that.”

Kurt pressed soft kisses on Blaine’s chest, a smile behind each one. “What part?”

“Well, all of it, but…watching you. Watching you come undone. Just for me. Makes me feel like I could conquer the world.”

“Ah well… you’ve surely conquered mine.”


	17. Chapter Sixteen

They dozed the rest of the evening away, Blaine stirring first with a groan and a stretch, wrapping both arms around Kurt, sinking him into the bed, smothering him with kisses as he eked out of his sleep induced haze. “Mmm…you’re cozy.”

Blaine squeezed him tighter and chuckled. “I don’t know how. My whole upper half feels stiff as a board.”

“Did I do that…or the fire?”

“Mmm…the fire. I put myself on the tank end of a hose; those fuckers are _heavy._ ”

Kurt wiggled out of Blaine’s embrace, booping his pouting lip when he sat up. “Roll over. I’ll give you a massage.”

“Oh god.” Blaine was on his stomach in no time, resting his head on his folded arms, wiggling himself deeper into the mattress and pillows.

“You don’t happen to have any oils or anything do you?”

“You know, I think I do. You might have to dig. Closet in the hall…green bottle, blue label.” Kurt got up and found his briefs, not wanting to scare a hall-surfing five year old just trying to make a potty run. After a little digging, Kurt returned with the bottle, squirting a little in his hand for a sniff as he straddled Blaine’s thighs. “Mmm…this smells nice.”

“It was Maggie’s. Helped with some of the pain…”

“Is this…is the scent going to bother you?”

“I don’t think?” Blaine twisted around and groaned at the pull of his muscles. “Lemme sniff.” He breathed in near Kurt’s hand and smiled faintly, closing his eyes as he rested his head back on his arms, the combination of lavender and cardamom warming his senses. “It’s okay. A good memory.”

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” Kurt oiled up his hands and rubbed them together to warm and started on Blaine’s lower back, pushing up, thumbs pressing at either side of his spine. Blaine’s deep groan of appreciation encouraged him to continue, working out knotted muscles, sneaking in kisses and soft bites when the sight of his sculpted back or the sound of his pleased moans was more than he could take. “Is this good?”

“It’s fantastic.”

“Good.” Kurt scooted back further on Blaine’s legs and added more oil, rubbing at his ass and thighs. “So, can I say it one more time?”

“Say what?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear that again.” Blaine rolled to his back and pulled Kurt down to curl together, kissing his forehead as he snuggled in, burrowing under the blankets. “I mean it. We’ve both apologized. We both meant it. Let’s just go forward, okay?” Kurt nodded and Blaine brushed a stray bang off of Kurt’s forehead, smiling at his post-sex dishevelment – so contrary to his day to day sophistication. “Tell me, though…when did you decide? When did you know?”

Kurt smiled shyly, and buried his head into Blaine’s neck. “You’re going to kill me.”

Blaine wiggled away from him and lifted his chin to make Kurt look at him. “Oh, no no no. No hiding. When!?”

Kurt blushed and closed his eyes before answering. “T-H-O-M-A-S.”

Blaine dropped his finger from under Kurt’s chin and fell silent.

Kurt knew that night. The Night. Before the market. Before the fatal fire, before the parade. Before the bad puns and flower deliveries. He knew. He knew, he knew, he knew, but somehow…he just couldn’t totally buy into it. Couldn’t allow it. Couldn’t.

“Dear god, Blaine. Say something or I’m going to stop breathing forever.”

“Why…” Blaine rolled to his side, running his knuckles along Kurt’s cheek, smiling when Kurt’s worry left his eyes. “Why Thomas?”

“I figured, any boy who could love a boy like Thomas would grow into a man who would love a man like me.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“The way you described him. The light in your eyes. You _got_ me and yet you never knew me.” Kurt paused long enough to steal a kiss, Blaine’s gentle smile the only invitation he needed. “And then…what you did for Maggie? _Twice?_ I’d be a fool to walk away from someone as amazing and selfless as that.”

“To quote you…you think too highly of me.”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“So, why did you make us wait? Why this awful, lonely, god I was losing my _mind,_ Kurt. Why?”

“It’s what I do.” At Blaine’s curious look, he tried a different angle. “Describe my job to someone who has no idea what I do.”

“For Marc Jacobs? Um…you take the designs the team comes up with for every season, and you deconstruct them into pieces, like sleeves and collars, pockets…”

“You _have_ been watching…then what?”

“Then, you make rough drawings of those pieces with scale and measurements, send them to pattern makers. And then…what? Pattern pieces come back to you and you make them into proto-types of the clothes. After you’ve terrorized a few fabric manufacturers for sending the wrong material.”

“I do not terrorize.”

“All I know is I would _not_ want to be on the receiving end of some of those phone calls you make.”

“When I say poplin, don’t fucking send me oxford. It’s really that simple.”

“Is there a point to this or are you avoiding my question?”

“My point is…that process? I’ve been doing that all my life – and not just with clothes. With my life. Here, your mom’s dead. Or, your bully just kissed you. Or, you didn’t get into your dream school. Or, your dad’s sick. I’d take it, I’d tear it apart, nip and pull and tuck it in different ways until it fit for me and then reconstruct it so it worked. It’s exhausting. But, it’s how I function.”

“And you hadn’t done that with us, had you?”

“No. And I didn’t want to. Everything happened so fast and it already fit and it was the right fabric and the right style and…” Kurt paused and laughed at his own dead metaphor. “…and it was already selling at fashion week without one single tweak from me. For the first time in my life, I was ready to just run with it…and I did. And then it backfired. So, I thought _okay, we’ll run this through my system too. Maybe it’s best._ ”

“So, was the hold out me or Adrian?”

Kurt scoffed, more at himself than the question. “Me.” Kurt sat up and stole a kiss for courage when Blaine joined him, crossed-legged, knee to knee. “The holdout was all me. Blaine, I’m petrified.”

“Of what?”

“Of breaking him.” Blaine started to counter him, but Kurt kept going. “I can be cruel too – you just said it yourself. I believe your word was _terrorize_.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“…I can bite. I can bitch. I can snap and snark and just rip someone apart with words and…I don’t have a lot of patience sometimes. I like things the way I like them. I like quiet when I want quiet and I like to be able to think before I act and kids don’t afford you that luxury and I…I don’t want to bite at him. You and I both know…all it takes is one word. From one person.”

“Okay, stop. Kurt, I worry about that stuff every day. One eye roll, one heaving sigh, one jerk of his arm when he darts away from me in a parking lot and he’s ruined forever. It’s what keeps all parents up at night. But most of the time…they don’t break.”

“But what if I go against _most of the time_?”

“You wo-…okay, let me tell you something that Maggie’s mom told her. Ade was just…god…3 days old, maybe? He still looked like a lizard, so he was _young._ ”

“Nice.”

“Oh, don’t deny it – they look like lizards at first.”

“The self-professed child hater has nothing to add.”

“Exactly. Anyway, Mags was a wreck. She’s just had her first night alone with him, he’d finally fallen asleep after a horrible attempt at nursing. She was sobbing at her incapability and what was she thinking and how was she supposed to do this alone and on and on. Her mom just let her go while I sat there feeling like a total loser. I didn’t know shit, man. I jizzed in a cup 9 months ago, and I had to be at the station in an hour, you know?”

“Typical male.”

“Shut up.” Blaine teasingly pinched skin at Kurt’s thigh – the thigh he’d been so gently caressing only hours before. “After she’d calmed down her mom told her that, from mom to mom, she couldn’t guarantee anything – how things would go, how Ade would turn out – but she could promise one thing. And that was, that we would screw up. We’d say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing and we wouldn’t always have Adrian’s best interests at heart.”

“Gee, thanks mom.”

“No, but you see…it lifted this huge burden. It gave us the freedom to simply do what we knew was right and not sweat the rest.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Blaine…nothing in life is.”

“No? Look, no matter how fabulous your best is? You’re going to screw up at some point. At your job. With your dad. With relationships. It’s just part of it. You know this…”

“But he’s a child.”

“He’ll bounce. Fucking rubber balls, kids. They know your heart better than _any_ one. They can cut through your shit faster than any detective. And if they see your heart is right…and Kurt, your heart? It’s the most tender I’ve ever known…they’ll bounce back from any humanity you might show them. In fact, they might even learn from it.”

“He and I _did_ do pretty well tonight.”

“It sounds like it. And when he’s a little shit? And he will be…the more you get to know him, the more comfortable he’s going to get. He’ll have to test you. You’ll manage just fine. And if you screw up? We’ll fix it. Just like we do when I screw up. Just like we do when he screws up.”

“Can I ask you a stupid question?”

“The stupider the better.”

Kurt swirled his finger over Blaine’s bicep, embarrassed at the silliness, if not childishness, of his question. But it was heartfelt and oddly, important. “Can we still dance in our underwear?”

Blaine laughed and pulled Kurt in closer, kissing his forehead. “I sure as hell hope so! Ade and I do all the time!”

“I just don’t want to miss the _us_ part…we were so good, just you and me.”

“It’s going to be different, but…”

“…we’re still you and me?”

“Absolutely. And I haven’t dated since I got custody, so I guarantee you, I’m going to screw up too.”

“You already did, Mister.”

“I like to start out with a bang.”

“There’s a pun in there…” Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine, sighing against him, his warmth, sinking his hand into his hair. “Speaking of screwing up, I probably should head home.”

“Why?”

“What about Adrian?”

“What about him?”

“Blaine…”

“Look, if my bedroom had a revolving door, that’d be one thing. He knows you. He likes you. He asks me every day if you’re my boyfriend or not…”

“Every day?”

“Every god damned day. Got to the point I wanted to deck him. _Why isn’t he yet?”_

“Because Kurt is an idiot.”

“You’re lucky that wasn’t my answer a few times.”

“Oh! Oh! I see how it is.”

“Do you?” Blaine wiggled his hands down into the blankets to Kurt’s waist. With a finger swirl and a pinch, Kurt squealed and jumped. The blankets flew, the limbs flailed and it was on, squeaks and squawks that should have woken the neighbors but fortunately didn’t even waken Adrian. They raspberried soft skin, stole kisses and nibbles and Blaine found every tender, ticklish spot and probably discovered a few Kurt didn’t even know about. By their breathless end, they were out of bed, one on either side, threatening with wiggling fingers to attack again.

And then Kurt’s stomach rolled, growling for food. “Sloppy Joe break?”

“So you’ll stay?”

“Only if you feed me.”

***

“Hey, beautiful?”

“Mmm…” Kurt turned to Blaine’s husky morning voice and grinned, kissing the air until their lips met, Blaine’s scruff tickling at his cheek.

“I just wanted to warn you, there’s going to be a tornado blasting into this room in about 5 minutes.”

“Oh. I bet its name is Adrian.” Kurt stretched and moaned, flopping onto his back absent-mindedly hiking the sheets up over his bare chest. “Should I put more clothes on?”

“Only if you’re not comfortable. We do a lot of undies only around here, so he probably won’t even flinch.”

As he hiked himself up and ruffled his hair, just as Blaine predicted, a tornado named Adrian blew through the closed door, took a flying leap onto the bed, landing straight on his dad. “HI Daddy!”

“Oof! Hey, buddy. Did you sleep well?”

“Uh-huh and I didn’t even ha-…” Adrian stopped, looked at Kurt – who smiled and waved – frowned and slipped off the bed, running back down the hall into his bedroom. He slammed his door and, from what Kurt and Blaine could hear, took another flying leap onto his own bed.

And then the tears began.

Kurt looked to Blaine as he sat up, wiping his hand down his face. “Welcome to screw up number one?”

“Yeah. That didn’t take long.”


	18. Chapter Seventeen

When Blaine peeked in Adrian’s room, he was greeted with a rounded lump on the bed, clad in an oversized fireman’s t-shirt and Spongebob underpants. Adrian’s tears, however, weren’t cartoonish at all. Blaine approached, kneeling at his son’s bedside to rub his back.

“Buddy…”

Adrian unleashed a new wail and Blaine sighed, twirling his fingers in Adrian’s curls, fighting every urge to hush him, hearing Maggie’s stern chastisement of such an action. _Children are allowed to cry when they’re sad and angry. Shushing them only tells them their feelings aren’t okay._

“Daddy’s here.”

“I knooooowwwwww…” Adrian flattened himself on the bed and turned to face his dad, his cries quieting to jerky hiccups of emotion.

Blaine lowered his chin to the mattress so they were eye to eye, his finger still swirling into the messy curls on his son’s head. “What’s up?”

“Your room…Daddy.” Adrian sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his face drenched with tears. “…your room smells like Mommy.”

“It smells like Mo-…oh.” Blaine could have sworn the sound of his heart dropping would have rivaled a sonic boom. _Crap. And? Fuck._ “It probably does. Daddy didn’t even think…” He crawled up on the bed, resting his back against the wall as he lifted his son up and folded him into himself. “I am so sorry.”

Adrian’s sniffles start up again as he curled into his Dad’s bare chest. “Why-z’it smell like her? Are…are _you_ sick now too?” And with that verbalized fear, the cries started again, clingy and desperate.

“Oh god…no. No, no, no…Ade.” Blaine extricated his son from his neck to look into his eyes, needing his full, absolute attention. “Adrian, look at me.”

Adrian sniffled and snorted and looked everywhere in his room but at his dad. Blaine took his face in his hands and kissed his forehead, waiting, waiting and finally, the eyes that looked just like his own met. “I am not sick. Do you hear me?”

Adrian nodded and shook for breath, a tear dropping from his face onto Blaine’s arm. “But, why…”

With a sigh, Blaine curled Adrian back up to his chest, pressing his cheek to his son’s messy curls. “Where was I last night?”

“At a big fire.”

“Yes. And I was there for a very long time, holding very very heavy hoses filled with water. Kurt and I took a nap last night and when I woke up, my shoulders were sore.”

“Like Mommy’s tummy?”

“No, honey. Not like Mommy’s tummy. Mommy’s pain was from being sick. Daddy’s pain is from overworked muscles, and? It goes away.”

“But you used Mommy’s special oil to help feel better?”

“Yes? Not…oh, Adrian…I am so sorry. I didn’t even think. I still had it and…we used it to help me feel better, yes.”

“And you’re not sick.” It was no longer a question.

“I am not sick.” They sat quietly for a few moments, rocking gently while Adrian drew circles on his dad’s legs, his breath still stuttering as he relaxed. “Ade, can we go in and talk to Kurt? We Were afraid you ran out because of him.”

“Oh! No! Oh. Oh my goodness. But. I don’t want to go back in there. I don’t want to smell the…” Adrian took a deep breath and looked up to his dad with a sad smile. “You smell like Mommy now too.”

“I’ll take a shower, we’ll wash the sheets and we can throw that oil away.”

“NO! Don’t throw it out.” Adrian hopped off his dad’s lap and wiped his eyes to dry the last of his tears. “Where’s Kurt?”

“In my room.”

“Why…Daddy? Why was he in your bed? With no shirt on?”

“We, uh…we had a sleepover.”

Adrian nodded and got off the bed and left his room, padding into the hall finding Kurt on Blaine’s stripped bed, reading his tablet, waiting patiently. “Kurt?”

“Hey…”

“Can…can you come to my room?”

“Sure. How’d your monster do last night?”

“She did good.” Adrian lifted his hands, tickling at Kurt’s chest, grinning when Kurt scooped him into his arms and onto his hip. “But, I didn’t see Mommy in my sleep – to tell her about your Mommy.”

“That’s okay. I bet she’ll visit again.”

“I hope so.” Adrian rested his head on Kurt’s shoulder and when they breached the door frame to Adrian’s room Blaine audibly gasped at the site before him. Kurt, the man he newly loved with a depth that belied the time of their affair, holding his son – the one person that could have kept them apart – as if it was the most natural, practiced, intuitive action he’s ever taken. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Kurt blushed and set Adrian down, popping him on the bottom as he ran into the room to unearth his monster from underneath the covers. “Look Daddy! It’s Lizzie! Kurt made her for me.”

“C’mere.” Blaine patted the bed, inviting Kurt to join them. “We all sit on the bed together for stories. Adrian’s rules. And I have a feeling…” Blaine took Lizzie from Adrian’s hand and looked her over between stolen glances of pure awe with a blushing Kurt. “…there’s a story on the way.”

“Oh my goodness, yes. This. Is Lizzie. I named her Lizzie beca-…Kurt you’re not on the bed.”

Kurt hadn’t breathed properly since he heard the monster’s name, but he shook himself out of it and, moving Adrian’s pillow, took the spot at the head of the bed. He tucked his bare toes under Blaine’s legs and wiggled them to keep warm. “Okay, is this good?”

“Yes. Is it? Is it okay I named her Lizzie? Because, well. I thought since our moms are friends now and you and I are friends now…”

“I think Lizzie is the perfect name.”

“Lizzie is…?”

“My mom. Well, to my dad. He’s the only one who could call her that.”

“So, Daddy, Lizzie is a good monster, see? She has flowers in these hands that she gives to people so they won’t be scared. Kinda like you sent flowers to Kurt?”

“So I wouldn’t be scared?” Kurt lifted an eyebrow at Blaine and chuckled as he fumbled for an answer. “Of the Blaine monster?”

“Well, no…not so you wouldn’t be sca-…although, maybe? Just, so you’d kno-…” Blaine sighed and looked at his son who was giggling and not being even close to helpful. “Adrian, this is your story. Go.”

“Grownups are weird.”

“Ah, Ade. Just because you don’t understand something…”

“…doesn’t make it weird.” Adrian rolled his eyes and tried again. “Grownups confuse me.”

“Better. And they confuse me, too.”

Adrian flipped the spikes on Lizzie’s head and started his story again only to stop himself one more time. “Is Kurt your boyfriend now?”

“Yes. I think the flowers worked, don’t you?”

Adrian cupped his hand to his mouth to _whisper_ in the best 5-year-old-too-loud whisper he could muster. “He has them in a vase in his office.”

Blaine grinned and side eyed Kurt, tickling at the tops of his feet. “Are you okay with that, Ade? That we’re boyfriends?”

“Can he be the sloppy joe maker from now on cuz, Dad…his are _so_ much better than yours.”

Blaine tried really hard to be insulted, but…“After one night you show me up? One night!?”

“I can’t help but pull focus. I’m a natural.”

“Appalled…I’m absolutely appalled.”

“Will you come over for more sleepovers, Kurt? Because I’ve never had a sleepover and I think I’d like to play next time.”

“If your Dad invites me…”

“You’re invited.” Blaine slid his hand up Kurt’s calf and ghosted his fingers over the back of his knees, smirking when he felt goose bumps forming beneath his touch.

“I accept. Ade, tell Daddy what Lizzie’s other hands do.”

“OH! Yes, well they are the ones that can hurt people. Bad people. They’re very strong and they can pick up the bad people and just…just…THROW them!”

“Oh jeez, Ade. That doesn’t sound very nice. Where does she throw them?”

“Away. Just. Away. Because they’re bad. Maybe…into the ocean.”

“How does she know who’s bad and who’s good?”

“I don’t know…” He thought about it for a moment while Blaine continued to absentmindedly rub at Kurt’s feet and shins, swimming in his eyes, amazed how the landscape of his life has changed before him. “OH! I know – maybe Santa tells her!”

“Hey, that’s a thought – like a sidekick for when Santa’s too busy.”

“Yes! That’s it! She’s Santa’s sidekick.”

“Well, I like Lizzie. I can’t believe you made her in one afternoon.”

“Kurt sews FAST! Like lightning! What’s for breakfast?”

Blaine and Kurt laughed at Adrian’s gnat-like train of thought. “I thought we could make French toast. Will you help me?”

“Yes! I love French toast!”

“Go on down. Get the bread out and our special dipping bowl, okay?”

“French toast! French toast!” A kiss for Blaine and a kiss for Kurt and he was off. “French toast! French toast!”

Blaine crawled up the bed, over Kurt’s legs and kissed him, brushing their noses together as he talked. “Mornings are a little crazy around here.”

“It’s a good kind of crazy.”

With another kiss, Blaine pulled Kurt off the bed. “I see you found your track pants.”

“Yeah, hope you don’t mind me rummaging through your drawers. I stripped the bed, too…I can’t believe it didn’t occur to either of us…”

“I know. I feel like a complete ass. He wants to keep the oil, though.”

Kurt shrugged. “Mom’s scent was the thing I clung onto the most – it’s comforting. When you’re expecting it anyway.”

“Well. I’ll keep it in his stuff. Maybe for after bath time.”

“I bet he’d like that.” Kurt slid his hand up Blaine’s chest and leaned in to ghost his lips over his neck. “Maybe we can find something of our own.”

“Mmmm…I’d like _that_.” Yet one more kiss, Blaine brushing his thumb over the perfect slope of Kurt’s cheekbone. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe I waited so long.”

***

“So, why aren’t you at work this morning, Chief Anderson?”

“Pick clothes from your drawers, Adrian, not your hamper!”

“I _know_ Dad!” Adrian slammed his bedroom door and Blaine turned to Kurt, gracefully sitting at his kitchen table, his fingers delicately wrapped around a mug of coffee, the slightest hint of scruff coloring his neck and jaw line. He was perfect.

“Because I had an irresistible man in my bed and he deserved a slow morning.”

“You took PTO for me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then that makes what I want to ask you easier.” Kurt got up to top their coffee off and dragged his finger through stray syrup left on his plate, offering it to Blaine, who took it willingly. “You are definitely the man for me…real maple syrup.”

“Aunt Jemima is a lovely lady and all, but…” He stammered when Kurt sucked a finger-ful of syrup into his own mouth, winking as he sat back down at the table. “Y-you needed to ask me something?”

“Yes. I don’t know if you have figured it out yet, but I have to go to New York this week.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“It’s my first review for this season. I leave Thursday morning; come home Sunday night.”

Blaine scrunched up his nose and sighed. “Our first weekend…”

“I know. I’m actually done Friday because of a canceled meeting Saturday morning and the flights are pre-arranged, so I was thinking – it’s going to be a logistical nightmare to even consider, but…I want you to come with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. I mean, I’m going to be in meetings all day Friday, but I have some ideas on what you can do…and we’ll have every night and all day Saturday, some of Sunday and I’d love for you to see my life there and…”

“…you’ve thought this through. Before we even talked last night.”

Kurt suitably blushed and fiddled with his mug. “Yes. I want to undo the mess I made my last trip and…” He looked up smiled at Blaine’s look of bemusement. “Stop it. I just want to be with you. As much as possible. I’m not ready to be apart for another stretch of time.”

“I’m not either.”

“So, you’ll come?”

“I have my PTO from Findley, so that’ll be easy, but Adrian? Might be more difficult.”

“And if you can’t, then we’ll plan better for next time.”

“I’ll call Maggie’s Mom. She was pretty put out she couldn’t help yesterday.”

“And decide what show you want to see.”

Blaine stared into his coffee and daydreamed. About shows and food and Central Park and…everything he’d seen on television over the years, but had never experienced for himself. Surely four days wasn’t enough to enjoy it all, but to go. With Kurt. To travel. With Kurt.

To be sitting here in his kitchen. With Kurt. Kurt, in track pants and bed head, when only 24 hours prior Blaine had pretty much convinced himself that the bad puns and flower deliveries and rainbow lollipops were only serving to remind him that he’d permanently blown it. With Kurt. He was firmly friend-zoned. With Kurt.

But he hadn’t blown it – Kurt was here. Drinking his too-strong coffee. Sneaking a bare toe into the hem of his lounge pants to tickle his ankle. Making monster dolls for his son and talking to him about dead mothers and weird nightmares like they were old friends from _back in the day_.

“You’ve disappeared.”

Blaine completely missed when Kurt stood and now he was draped over his shoulders, nuzzling into his neck, sending chills up and down his spine. He kissed Kurt’s temple and pulled him around to sit across his lap. “I did.” He traced patterns on Kurt’s arm, the week ahead of him coming into focus, much, much too soon. “Are you going to the Eastwood funeral tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure; we were invited. You?”

“I’m _in_ the damned thing. I think they want to give me something for at least…trying?”

“Oh god, Blaine. Is it me or is that oddly morbid?”

“It’s odd. I mean, I’m honored, but it’s just my job. I really don’t want attention drawn at the kid’s funeral.”

“Is the whole team going?”

“Yeah, minus a skeleton crew to cover.”

“Do you _want_ me to come?

“I haven’t been to a funeral since Mag’s…”

“…can I sit with you or should you be with your crew?”

“Last I checked, I’m the chief. You’re sitting with me.”

“Oooh, look at you throwing your authority around…” Kurt kissed Blaine’s forehead and stood to collect the plates, flapping his hand as Blaine protested to leave them be. “…it’s sort of hot.”

Blaine watched him clean up, his movements full of ease and grace. He slipped behind him at the sink, wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing a trail of kisses across the back of his neck. “Will I see you tonight?”

Kurt turned off the water, leaving the dishes to rinse and spun in Blaine’s embrace, draping his arms over his shoulders. “Come over for dinner. I’ll grill. Have Ade bring a couple of movies.”

“Mmm…no alone time.”

“Figure out New York and I’ll make it up to you.”

***

“Dot are you here?”

“Back at the copier!”

Kurt turned the corner only to find Dot’s ass up in the air as she bent to fill the bottom of the machine with paper. “… thing always runs out of paper when I’m using it.”

“It must love the view.”

Dot stood with a groan and turned to look at Kurt, smirking at his mismatched attire. “Did someone have a good night?”

“What?” Kurt looked down and grimaced – green track pants, a very faded navy Findley Fire Department t-shirt and dress shoes. “I was, um…just out for some errands and thought I’d come in and remind you I’m in New York later this week.”

“Errands? You wouldn’t be caught dead taking out the garbage looking like that, Mr. _Findley_ Fire Department.”

“Fine.” Kurt comically preened. “You are now looking at the poorly dressed, but very happy new First Lady of the Lima City Fire Department.”

“So you finally pulled your head out of your ass?”

“I did.”

“When? He was at that fire until…god, that was an awful one. Eight families.”

“Did we have to open a shelter?”

“No. Most went with family.” Kurt nodded and blushed as Dot looked him over. “I’m happy for you Kurt. Seriously. He’s an amazing man.”

“I just hope I can make him happy.”

“Oh honey, in light of your clown suit, I have a feeling you’re well on your way.”

***

“Deliv’ry! Mr. Hummel! You have a deliv’ry!”

Kurt sighed at the pounding at the door, not hearing the urgent calls from the other side. He draped his tea towel over his shoulder and yanked the door open where he was greeted with a long box lifted towards him by a midget. Or maybe it was an Adrian.

“Deliv’ry for Mr. Kurt Hummel.”

“For me?” Kurt lifted his gaze, spotting the flower delivery man and cocked his head in confusion.

“We got here when he did, Kurt. Take this – it’s _heavy_!”

“Oh! Yes. Thank you, Adrian…come on in. Where’s your dad?”

“Hiding around the side of the garage.”

“ADRIAN! Dude…you’re my wingman! Don’t blow my cover!” Blaine popped out from the side of the house and rolled his eyes, waving to the flower delivery man before planting a slow, messy kiss on Kurt’s mouth and dipping him slightly before sneaking into the house.

“Congratulations, Son. Looks like you made the right choice.”

“Thank you. I think I did too.” Kurt waved to the delivery man one more time before closing the door and grinning at these two ridiculous people standing in his foyer.

“Well, open them, Kurt!” Adrian huffed and plopped backwards onto the couch, kicking his sandals off like he owned the place.

“Make yourself at home, kid.” Kurt rested the box on the back of the chair and lifted the lid, gasping at the full, beautiful long-stemmed red roses inside. “Blaine…”

“They were supposed to get here this afternoon.”

“This is nice having you here, though.” He picked the card out of the foliage and shed its envelope.

_All of me…for all of you. Blaine_

Kurt moved so quickly, he barely got the box balanced onto the seat of the chair before taking Blaine’s face in his hands and kissing him hard and wet and loud, stopping only for breath to rest his head on his forehead. “I love you. So much.”

“Are you two gonna do this kissing stuff all the time now?”


	19. Chapter Eighteen

“Kurt, I’m having a crisis.”

Kurt popped his phone on speaker and tossed it onto his desk to finish boxing up his materials for his meetings. “A crisis? I thought everything was set and ready to go?”

“Oh, it is. Ade’s packed and yanking at my damn…seriously, dude. Go get a picture ready for Nana. You’re driving me bonkers…”

“You said we’d leave at 5-3-0 and it’s 5-FOUR-0.”

“Yes, it is. And we’ll leave in a few minutes. Out.”

Kurt kept packing, pulling tape across the split in the box and laughing at the two fools on the other end of the phone.

“Sorry. Crisis. In what the hell to pack for myself. And wear. And…how do you do this once a month?”

“Without a five-year-old, to start…”

“…well, yes, but did you tell me that you pack in about 10 minutes? I can’t even decide what shirt to wear on the plane in 10 minutes.”

“Pick a color.”

“What?”

“A color scheme. Grays, browns, blues, blacks, chartreuses if you’re feeling dangerous. Pick a color scheme, pack major pieces and add accents. Or not – you’ll be fine without them.”

“What’s yours?”

“I’m going with browns this time. Tan, ecru, linens…some earthy greens. Or maybe pink. Or…powder blue? I’ll decide when I pack.”

“Bah. I have some nice pieces here and there, but not a wardrobe like you do. I’ve gotten away with piecemealing for years.”

“Blaine, honey. Stop. Take Adrian to Findley. Call me when you’re almost back and I’ll meet you at your house to help.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re just trying too hard.” Blaine sighed and Kurt chuckled. “I need to get this stuff to Fed Ex or I’m going to beat it to New York and the world will implode.”

“What do people wear to shows in New York?”

“Take Adrian to Findley. It’s 5-4-FIVE.”

“But…”

“I’m hanging up, Blaine. Go. Get out and get back. I want your real breath in my ear, not the sound of it having an anxiety attack through a phone.”

“Oh. Nice call. I’m leaving. See you in a couple of hours.”

***

Blaine buckled himself into his seat and patted at his jacket pocket for his phone, his back pocket for his wallet, his head for a stray curl? and started to unbuckle to check his bag for his glasses. But, Kurt rested his hand on his wrist, firm yet soft and he stilled, breathing out only a hint of his pent up energy.

“Babe. I feel like I have Adrian with me. What’s up?”

“I’m a five year old now?”

“Don’t get sensitive. You’ve been fidgeting since we left my house.”

“I’ve remembered how much I hate flying. And I feel out of place. And like your puppy dog. And why in the hell are we sitting in first class?”

“First, it’s a two hour flight. By the time you get a good anxiety attack going, we’ll be landing. Second, you not only belong, you look amazing doing it. Third, you are not dog, you’re my boyfriend, so don’t start pooping in my shoes _and finally,_ we’re in first class because Marc Jacobs seems to think I’m worth it.” Blaine tried to smile at Kurt’s attempts to quell his fears but even his soft kiss of reassurance, while helpful, didn’t ease his anxiety. “Let’s get a drink in you.”

“Maybe that’ll help. I mean, Jesus. I run into burning buildings, but this…” he motioned around him and shook his head. “…whole businessmen, white collar, college-educated, _where to, Miss_ atmosphere is like the 7 th ring of hell.”

“Was this a bad idea?”

“No. No, I’m sorry. Not at all.” Blaine breathed a sigh when the flight attendant approached, motioning for Kurt to order first.

“Manhattan on the rocks.”

Blaine shrugged and ordered the same, starting over when alone again. “Cute with the uh…Manhattan going to…”

“I ordered that my first flight back to New York after I turned 21. Now it’s just a good luck charm, I guess. Unless I toss back three in one flight.”

“We’ll stick to one this time.” Blaine took Kurt’s hand and kissed his fingers, unwittingly becoming their go-to move to bring scattered thoughts into focus. To each other. “I feel like…I’m on a space ship and we’re headed for another planet.”

“Ah, my love…that’s because we are.”

“If I really were a five year old, that would excite me.”

“Then maybe you should take a page from Adrian’s book. It is exciting. And insane. And yes, other-worldly. And we have four days and three more nights alone – last night was lovely, by the way – just you and me. If you get there and hate it, we can spend the entire weekend ordering take out and being naked. But I don’t think you’re going to hate it.”

“I don’t think you’ll let me.”

“I want you to love it. But, it’s not for everybody and that’s more than okay. Dad _hates_ New York.” Blaine leaned his head back and took a few deep breaths as the slam of the galley door rang through the cabin. “Look, I just want to spend time with you. Eat good food. See a show. It doesn’t have to be this huge life changing experience…just an adventure.”

Their drinks arrived and they lifted them for a quiet toast. “To a grand adventure.”

“Adventure is out there!”

Blaine grinned and never let his eyes leave Kurt’s as they swallowed down the alcohol, warm and soothing, his heart steadying and reigniting in proper anticipation. “My god, Maggie would have loved you.”

***

“Can you take us in via Brooklyn Bridge rather than Williamsburg?”

“Yes, sir. It will take a little longer…”

“I know. It’s his first time here, and I just…”

“Ah, yes. Brooklyn Bridge it is.”

Blaine eyed Kurt suspiciously when he joined him in the back of their private car – _seriously, a private car? –_ and chuckled when Kurt snooted his nose up in the air.

“What were you plotting out there?”

“Nothing concerning you.”

“Ah. That’s why you were both pointing inside the car.”

“New upholstery. He was telling me about it.” Blaine playfully glared and Kurt caved. “I asked him to go into the city via the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s just a nice _voila_ moment.”

And it was. Blaine took in the scenery throughout the journey from the airport, his fingers resting in or tangling between Kurt’s all the way in. “It _is_ another planet.” Nothing could have prepared him for the size of it all. Sure, Ohio had its skylines and he’d traveled to a few other big cities for work, but nothing compared to this. “So, is this the financial district over here?”

“Yeah. We’ll go by New York’s Supreme Court, cut the edge of Chinatown and then we’ll be in Soho.”

“And that’s where you live?”

“That’s where the company apartments and the offices are, yeah. I lived in West Village before I moved back.”

“You’re going to have to show me a map. I’m already confused.”

“You’ll be fine, but we’ll get a map. I carried one around with me the first month I lived here. Just don’t pull it out in public. New Yorkers eat tourists for breakfast.”

“At least I’m delicious.”

“Yes, but I’m the only one who gets to eat you for breakfast.”

Blaine soaked in every sight he could, the corporate bustle when they crossed the bridge, the touristy gaudiness of Chinatown, and before he knew it, the car stopped and Kurt was squeezing his hand to signal it was time to get out.

The concierge acknowledged them both by name, taking their luggage all the way into the bedroom. “Looks like you have some champagne and treats, gentlemen. Enjoy your weekend.”

Blaine looked around the beautifully appointed, albeit small apartment and shook his head. He was out of his league. Out of his mind. Way out of his comfort zone. Until, at least, he looked at Kurt, slipping his suit jacket off and draping it over the back of a chair. In him, he could feel at home anywhere.

“I’ve not stayed in this one before. I usually end up in a studio in back. Smaller windows and half the size.”

“This is beautiful.”

“Wait until dark. New York at her best.”

Blaine looked around, still a little nervous and pointed at the chilling champagne. “You do this?”

“No. The receptionist must have when I asked for a larger place…let’s have a drink before we go to the offices.”

They shared a drink, some cheese and bread and before Blaine could catch his breath, they were walking hand in hand to Kurt’s workplace, only a block away.

Once there, Blaine was introduced to so many people, his head was spinning. Kurt was clearly well known, highly respected and in great demand. It was such a departure from how he’d seen him in Ohio, a simple non-profit volunteer who happened to spend most of his time drawing, measuring, and sewing garments – a small town boy with a big town hobby.

But here? Here he was slick and smooth, generous with kindness, but firm with authority. “This looks great, but the roll of the collar needs to be more crisp.”

“Well, I changed the interfacing because I thought tha-…”

“No. That wasn’t the design. He’ll catch it. The collar frames the fa-…”

“…frames the face. Yes, I know.”

“Good. Fix it and I’ll check it before the review in the morning. Otherwise, nice work.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hummel.”

Kurt scanned over his team’s spec kits, giving directives to clean up details and specifications that were not up to the Marc Jacobs standard. A standard he had memorized, clicking off minute particulars like a trigonometry calculator.

With fluid grace, he turned off his critiquing eye and grabbed Blaine’s hand, taking him to the sample warehouse for a little shopping. With an introduction to an assistant and a quick kiss, Kurt disappeared into the offices for a few brief meetings.

It was awkward at first, just accepting that what he liked he could have, but after reassurances from the lovely assistant helping him find his way around, Blaine resigned himself and picked out a few pieces – a suit, some shirts, and accessories for himself and a couple of cute outfits for Adrian. Just when he was quadruple guessing an amazing jacket that was probably two seasons old – unknown to the average man on the street – Kurt returned and gasped.

“You’re getting that, right?”

“Thinking about it – it needs some alterations.” He swung the jacket on over his t-shirt and chuckled at the long sleeves. “I always look like a little boy trying on Daddy’s clothes.”

“I’ll tailor it for you – that color is amazing.”

“I’ve never had one this shade of green before.” He preened one more time in the mirror and watched Kurt evaluate the necessary nips and tucks to make the jacket fit like a new skin. “You done with your meetings?”

“Yes. I’m all yours until tomorrow.”

They arranged packing and shipping of Blaine’s loot and made their way through the halls to really get this trip underway. Blaine was busy rattling off some of the foods he’d decided he absolutely had to have during their short trip when Kurt’s grip tightened in Blaine’s hand.

“Oh, fuck.”

Blaine followed Kurt’s gaze, unaware of the problem until he saw him. A dark haired man around their age with an intentionally disheveled appearance. He sauntered up to them, smiling cockily at Kurt. And with that cocky smile, that jaunty walk, Blaine knew in an instant, without a name to go by, this was _him._

Blaine’s stomach flipped and his heart picked up its pace, all the while his outside appearance exuded nothing but staunch confidence and friendliness. Chief Anderson, at your service.

Kurt kissed the man’s cheek, catching more air than skin, stiffening his back at his first words, whispered into his ear. “You haven’t called.”

“I didn’t know you were expecting me to.”

Blaine watched as hallway friendliness gave way to unspoken tension and suddenly, he wanted the hell out of there. He cleared his throat and prayed for a voice. “I’m just going to…did we pass a men’s room back there, Kurt?”

“No.” Kurt shook his head and looked at Blaine, his eyes softening. “I mean, yes we did, but no. Don’t leave.” Blaine didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, waiting for a better cue. “Unless…” Kurt smiled and Blaine echoed it back. “…you really need to go, then by all means…”

Blaine relaxed and chuckled, this other…person…virtually disappearing. “No. I…we really need to work on our non-verbal cues, babe.”

“Yes. So.” Kurt stifled his giggles and narrowed his eyes again. “Mitchell. This is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson. Blaine? Mitchell Campanello. A friend from college and a photographer here.”

“Mitchell.” Blaine reached out his hand and shook Mitchell’s firmly, insisting on eye contact, which was a bit of a chase as Mitchell was more interested in holding Kurt’s gaze. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Aren’t you two cute?” Mitchell looked Blaine up and down and Blaine found himself cinching himself closer to Kurt. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” With one more visual sweep down Blaine’s body, Mitchell launched a bomb. “How’s that son of yours?”

“Mitchell!”

“What? You told me he has a kid. I’m just being polite.”

While Kurt blustered, Blaine simply smiled. This man was an ass. “He’s very well, thank you for asking. Enjoying a long weekend with his grandmother, so I’m sure he’s having the time of his life.”

“Mmm…so, no mother in this twisted little Rockwellian picture?”

Blaine’s smile darkened, going from polite to sweetly judgmental with a simple dip of his head. “Only in memory, I’m afraid.”

Mitchell opened his mouth for another comeback, but his snarky Southern drawl had been momentarily silenced. “Kurt, _this_ is why a phone call would have been nice…so I wouldn’t make an ass of myself.”

“I’m not sure a phone call from me would have prevented that from happening, Mitchell.”

“And here I was going to congratulate you on your conquest.”

Blaine took a step forward to…do…something? He didn’t even know, but instinct moved before sense. Fortunately for Kurt, sense was louder and he simply took Blaine’s hand and pointed toward the elevators. “Blaine, I believe we were heading out? Mitchell, I’d like to say it was good to see you…”

As they tried to pass without another word, Mitchell grabbed at Kurt’s arm. Blaine would have rather punched himself in the face than witness another moment between these two men, the years of…something between them was palpable. It wasn’t love, but it was a connection that had at one time been very good.

Without diverting his eyes from Kurt’s, Mitchell dared speak again. “Blaine?”

“Mmm?”

“Take good care of him.” He finally looked at Blaine, a slight air of humility ghosting over his cockiness. “He deserves nothing but the best.”

“That has always been my full intention.”

“Good. Kurt?” He kissed Kurt’s cheek with genuine tenderness. “Just be happy.”


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Kurt flopped back against the wall of the elevator and heaved out an apology that sounded thin and lifeless compared to the absolute regret he felt.

“We’re done with apologies, remember?”

“I know, but…damn him. I have _never_ seen him act that way.”

Blaine pushed the button to close the door and went to Kurt, pressing close, grazing his lips against Kurt’s neck. “We probably do need to talk about…whatever that was…”

“Probably…”

Blaine placed a hand on either side of Kurt’s shoulders, breath and lips ghosting over his jaw and neck as he spoke. “…but right at the moment…I’m exhausted from traveling, I’m already overwhelmed at this city, and I’m feeling just a little…” Blaine sucked Kurt’s earlobe into his mouth and dragged his teeth over the soft skin before kissing his way back to Kurt’s mouth. “…predatory.”

Kurt smiled against him and wrapped a leg around Blaine’s calf, sharing breath and space, watching his eyes darken with want. “But you already have me…”

“Do I? I’m not sure everyone’s in agreement with that.”

The elevator came to a stop with a gentle rest and a soft ding of a bell, but neither budged when the door opened into the lobby.

“Then take me again.”

***

With his hand gripping Kurt’s like a vice, Blaine led the way back to the apartment, only needing Kurt’s gentle prodding once when he’d taken a left outside of the offices instead of a right. It was a short walk, stalled only by the traffic light in front of Kurt’s building, but that was the perfect opportunity to publicly announce his claim on this man, twirling Kurt into himself, kissing him fiercely, pulling back only when the few people around them shifted to cross the street.

Kurt tried to slow to introduce him to the desk clerk, but clearly, now was not the time for niceties or cordialities. “I’ll umm…on the way back down, Colleen. Blaine!” Kurt yelped when Blaine yanked him into the elevator and laughed when his fingers hovered over the numbers, not remembering what floor they were on. “Seven, sweetheart. Do I need to put a tag around your neck?”

“No.” Blaine pushed him against the wall of the elevator, cupping his face in his hands to kiss him hard and wet, grinding Kurt into the bar that surrounded the paneled walls. “Just feeling a little…” Their eyes met, dark, needy, desperate. “…short circuited.”

Once in the apartment, they moved quickly, positively, clothes dropping a path on the wooden floor, giggles morphing into moans, cries, and calls of pleasure that echoed through the high ceilings, an intimate soundtrack to their passions. Blaine was forceful and rough, leaving marks on Kurt’s pale smooth skin with his fingers, his teeth, finally, finally thrusting hard and fast, sinking into Kurt with possession again and again, his grip never wavering, not wanting one moment to be about anything but them. Kurt. Blaine. Each for the other. _No one else’s_.

As they curled together, spent and wrecked, Blaine covered Kurt in tenderness, finding every mark he’d made, dotting each scratch and hickey with tongue-lead kisses, words of comfort and warmth mumbled against his skin. Kurt’s fingers twined in Blaine’s hair, his breath stuttering as Blaine laved at droplets of come on his belly, finally resting his curly head on Kurt’s chest, their legs tangled and cricketing together to a slow, steady pace.

“So, Love. This Jealous Blaine thing you have going on?”

Blaine chuckled and rolled into the little spoon position, snuggling in closer. “Yes?”

“Keep him close. That’s um…” Kurt dotted Blaine’s back with kisses, collecting his thoughts which really only splayed more with each kiss. “Yes. Very. Shall I…” Blaine pressed his ass back against Kurt, matching the rhythm of Kurt’s words. “…hrm…arrange for someone to come along and ruffle your possessive feathers now and then?”

“Oh, I’d just as soon you not…”

“Aw…”

They rocked together, wordless, soft groans in pattern with their motion, until they stilled too tired to really do much else, but not wanting to stop the connection either. Eventually, Blaine hiked himself up, pulling Kurt with him, dragging him by both hands into the bathroom. “Shower with me?”

“Always.”

They met in a sloppy kiss, their bodies still clumsy and noodled from sex. Blaine braced himself against the sink, caressing Kurt’s cheeks with his thumbs, seeking his gaze beneath sleepy lids. “Kurt…”

Kurt kept kissing him and Blaine pressed on. “Wait. Kurt. Listen…mmmm…god…” He pulled back from one particularly deep, wet, heated kiss and grounded himself with a huff. “Listen to me.”

"This better be good."

"I’m being serious…stop…kissing…" Kurt was not making this easy. "Kurt Hummel."

Kurt sucked in a huge breath, closed his eyes and pursed his lips shut. “Fine. I’m resisting the hottest man in New York City, who happens to be standing ass naked in my bathroom. I hope you’re happy.”

"Ecstatic." Blaine stole a quick kiss before continuing. "I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to go somewhere else for…for anything.”

“It didn’t happen because it had to. It happened because I was stupid.”

“Which happened because I was stupid. Promise me you’ll come to me first if I make you unhappy.”

“I will.” Kurt kissed the tip of Blaine’s nose and slipped out of Blaine’s arms to turn on the water, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Promise me you’ll act jealous every once and awhile anyway.”

Blaine growled and pulled Kurt into the shower with a squeak. Neither really remembered much after that.

***

That evening, Blaine enjoyed his first food wish, New York style pizza – from Lombardi’s no less – and was sprawled out on the floor, feeling fat and lazy and entirely sated. He had a cold beer, a hot man and a full stomach – who wouldn’t feel sated? So, why he chose his next words as he did, he’d never know.

“So. Elephant-in-the-room-named-Mitchell. What’s the story?”

Kurt was flopped on his back on the couch, equally sated and peaceful, uncharacteristically at ease about his big review the next morning. Even more uncharacteristic? Being totally unruffled by Blaine’s question. “What part do you want? Because if you want to know why he was such an asshole today, I don’t have a story to tell you.”

“How long have you known him?”

Blaine dropped his head back against the couch and sighed as Kurt ran his fingers through his curls, massaging and scratching perfectly. “We met my senior year in college. He was getting his masters. My class needed photographers to finish our projects and his needed editorial fashion to finish theirs. Mitchell and I just clicked and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“When did that change?”

“It didn’t.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Ugh. Okay. He had a huge break up maybe…four years after we met? He was going to ask his boyfriend to marry him, walks in to find some other dude pounding away in his guy’s ass. He called me.”

“Ouch.”

“We went out, got drunk and…”

“Comfort fuck.”

“Exactly. We never spoke of it again. It wasn’t what we were about. The few times we’ve slept together, that’s what it’s been. One of us is lost, we get drunk and…”

“Did that happen a lot?”

“No. I had a weird break up a few years ago. And then again when I got back from Ohio at Christmas and knew I had to give up New York for awhile. That was it…”

“…until me.”

“Blaine. I’m sorry. I wish more than anything that it hadn’t happened. I don’t know what else to say.”

“I know.” Blaine took Kurt’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingertips. “I just wonder why he got all weird _this_ time?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because he’s never seen me that bent? Maybe he was afraid my feelings for you were out of control so he doesn’t trust it? I have no idea.”

“Maybe he realized he’s in love with you after all.”

Kurt scoffed and got up to grab another drink, his bare feet padding on the wood floors. “Seriously, Blaine. It’s never been that. If something changed in him, he’s just going to have to get over it. Even if you weren’t a part of the picture, I wouldn’t be interested.”

“Why not? He’s attractive. Obviously driven…”

Kurt set his drink on the end table and straddled Blaine’s lap, feeding him a grape from the fruit tray that had been left with the champagne. “Because I just don’t…he’s not…” Kurt sighed and pressed a dry kiss to Blaine’s forehead. “…I just…why do we need to have this conversation?”

“I don’t want to worry about him again the next time you come back alone.”

“Worry about him or worry about me?”

Blaine kissed Kurt’s chin to hopefully ease the glare that was forming in Kurt’s eyes. “Him. Making you uncomfortable. Deciding he had another crisis that needed comforting.”

“I’m fully capable of telling him to find his comfort elsewhere.”

“And he’ll listen?”

“He’s not a rapist, Blaine. He just acted like an asshole today.”

Kurt gently scratched at the back of Blaine’s neck, running his fingers over and through the short hair there. Blaine sighed at the soothing touch and let it take him, easing his jealousy if only a little. “I’d probably act like an asshole if I thought I was losing you to someone else, too.”

“That’s very sweet, but I really don’t think that’s what’s going on in his head.”

“You don’t think he’ll miss the rendezvous, infrequent as they were?”

“No idea. I know I won’t – hell, I don’t remember much about them anyway. I was always drunk.”

“You might be forgetting the best sex of your life!” Blaine chuckled and pulled Kurt in closer, moaning softly when Kurt’s ass nudged at Blaine’s crotch.

“Oh, no. Best sex of my life didn’t happen until I met _you_.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

Blaine rolled his hips up and kissed and nipped at Kurt’s collarbone, done with conversation.

“I, um…thought we were going to take a walk tonight?”

“We only get one plan a night?”

“No…” Kurt hissed as Blaine’s hands slipped into the waistband of his lounge pants, squeezing at his ass, pulling him closer, rocking up harder. “Fuck the plans…”

Blaine leaned forward, laying Kurt on the floor, kissing his way down his abdomen and quickly ridding them both of their pants, sneaking a slow draw of his tongue over the length of Kurt’s cock before scooping him back up, resting him on his lap with a wiggle. “Yes. Fuck the plans.”

***

_Blaine [08-11-23 11:43]: A dyslexic man walks into a bra._

_Kurt [08-11-23 11:45]: Jesus, Blaine._

_Blaine [08-11-23 11:46]: Should you be texting during your review, Mr. Hummel?_

_Kurt [08-11-23 11:49]: I wouldn’t be if you’d leave me alone, Chief Anderson._

_Blaine [08-11-23 11:52]: Off for lunch. See you this afternoon._

After a fabulous sandwich at Viand deli, Blaine left Barney’s and took a walk outside, inadvertently finding Central Park. He sat down on an iron bench at its edge and breathed in, watching the people around him – moms, joggers, businessmen and women, tourists…every shape, size and color. The buzz of the atmosphere around him and simply getting out of the dressing room he’d spent his morning in surely contributed to the feeling of refreshment despite the humid thick New York summer air. A day of shopping with a personal shopper and stylist at one of the finest stores in the city had been fun and he was looking forward to the afternoon, but sitting still – or more accurately, standing still – was never something he enjoyed. Being pampered was unusual and getting flashes of price tags of the outfits they were bringing him was enough to induce cardiac arrest.

But, Kurt had plead. As a gift. For waiting. For loving him from a distance while he got his head screwed on straight. For coming with him this weekend. And, because Blaine didn’t feel like he had anything nice enough to wear to the show the following night. Kurt’s insistence that some people wore jeans wasn’t enough. He knew Kurt wouldn’t do such a thing and he wanted to be someone Kurt was proud to be with. Proud to be seen with.

New York City was Kurt’s turf. Kurt’s world. Blaine wanted to slot into it like a groove in a cogwheel. So, while he had initially resisted Kurt’s generous offer of a day at Barney’s, he was, admittedly, enjoying it.

He was listening to a little girl and her mother have a very serious discussion about having dessert for lunch – of which he was in full support of the daughter – when his phone buzzed.

_Kurt [08-11-23 12:21]: This one’s more for Adrian, but…what do you call an alligator in a vest?_

_Blaine [08-11-23 12:26]: Are you on lunch break or are you risking your entire career for the gloriousness of puns?_

_Kurt [08-11-23 12:28]: Do you have to resist me every time I try to start one of these? This does not come naturally, sir._

_Blaine [08-11-23 12:30]: My most sincere apologies. What do you call an alligator in a vest – besides fashionable?_

_Kurt [08-11-23 12:35]: An investigator!_

_Blaine [08-11-23 12:37]: You’re right – Adrian would love that one. Is it silly that after only two days I’m missing him?_

_Kurt [08-11-23 12:40]: I hope not, because I am too, and I thank you for totally wrecking me that way._

_Blaine [08-11-23 12:44]: You’re welcome. My genetic code is adorable, what can I say?_

_Kurt [08-11-23 12:46]: That it is. OH! We have to tell Ade that he was right about the coral pants. Jacobs hates them too. “What was I thinking? That’s so 2012!”_

_Blaine [08-11-23 12:48] Spoken by the man who wears see-through dresses with boxers and combat boots to galas at the Met. He’s inspirational._

_Kurt [08-11-23 12:50]: Creativity and crazy are closely related, my love._

_Blaine [08-11-23 12:52]: I would have least gone for black boxers…_

_Kurt [08-11-23 12:54]:_ You _should go for commando. And with that, I have to scoot. See you in a few hours._

_Blaine [08-11-23 12:55]: I love you._

_Kurt [08-11-23 12:56]: And now my assistant is asking why I’m grinning like a fool. I love you too._

***

“Move around in this, sit, stand and I’ll be back to do any further adjustments. I’m sure Kurt will have a few to make as well.”

Blaine chuckled, only imagining how particular Kurt was as a customer, especially in light of how meticulously fit his dress clothes were. Everything he wore looked custom made for him and him alone. He shrugged his jacket on and buttoned it, smoothing the front as he looked in the mirror for his own personal inspection.

“You are simply stunning.”

Blaine turned to the dressing room door and grinned, opening his hands so Kurt could get a full view. “You think?”

“I know…that color was made for you.” He motioned for Blaine to go back to the mirror as he slipped off his own jacket and gave him a good overall look-see. “The shape is perfect for your body…Mary is amazing.”

“Will it work with what you’re wearing?”

“Yes.” Kurt walked around Blaine, lifting the jacket at the shoulders, tugging on the sleeve, his expression becoming more and more calculating.

“My boyfriend just left the building, didn’t he?”

Kurt looked up from his squatted position in front of Blaine, checking the hem on his trousers and grinned, his cheeks coloring in a blush. “Sorry. Do you want me to leave it to them?”

“They’ll do fine, but no. I want your expertise – this thing will fit me better than anything I’ve ever owned.”

“It’s fine clothing; it _should_ fit perfectly. I think everyone would look better if they’d wear properly fitted clothes.”

“Yeah except Target doesn’t have a tailor, Kurt.”

“Now you know why I won’t shop there.” Just as Kurt stood to grab the tape and pins resting on the chaise, Mary joined them, notebook in hand. “Mary, you’ve gone above and beyond – this is beautiful.”

“Well, he’s an easy subject. I’m sure you’ll have some adjustments, though.”

“Are you saying I’m picky?”

“Consistent?”

Blaine stood uncomfortably as Kurt and Mary sized him up and down, discussing pant and jacket sleeve length, a faultily stitched vent and once he had Blaine take off his jacket to check inseam and waist fit on his trousers, the fact that the seat needed to be taken out.

“Are you saying I have a big ass?”

“I’m saying I love your ass and if your pants fit right, everyone else will too.”

“Hrmph. _Let out the seat_ …I understand perfectly.” Truth was, he was simply trying to deflect the fact that Kurt kept smoothing his hand down his ass – to do his job – but it was Kurt’s hand and Kurt’s touch and why couldn’t he have become a model or a professional mannequin so he would have spent his days having Kurt touch his ass?

“Are you going to wear the pant hem down or roll it with fun socks?”

“Can I do fun socks for the show? Or no socks? I was afraid it wouldn’t be formal enough.”

“Either is fine. If you want, we can pick some out and I’ll get a kerchief to work off of it.” Kurt rolled his hem up a few times, chuckling when he saw goose bumps forming on Blaine’s ankles from his fingers brushing his bare skin. “Advice? Don’t go into modeling, babe.”

“I can’t help it – you have magic fingers.”

Kurt looked up to Mary and thanked her and she graciously took the hint, quickly taking her leave. As soon as the door clicked behind her, he stood, dragging his hands up the sides of Blaine’s legs and rested them on his hips, holding him close. With a wicked grin, he leaned in and sucked at the tender skin below Blaine’s ear. “I’ve been thinking about you _all_ day.”

Blaine moaned and walked his hands around Kurt’s waist, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers, his fingers scratching at the linen material covering the curve of his ass. He tilted into Kurt’s lips as he continued planting soft, suckling kisses all over his jaw and neck. “Oh? Was it distracting?”

“Mmm…do you remember what you did to me here last night?” Kurt took Blaine’s right hand and moved it to his side, holding it there as their bodies began swaying to the soft muzak playing overhead.

Blaine nestled his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck, breathing him in, moving his mouth over the skin with loose lips and hot breath. “I think it involved sucking. And nibbling.” Which he mimicked on Kurt’s neck.

“It did. And every time I leaned back against the arm in my conference chair…”

“Oh my. I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be.” Kurt pulled back and began untying the bow at Blaine’s neck. “I just think we need to get back home…” He slid the silk out from the collar and tossed it aside. “…and make a matching set.”

Blaine grinned, grabbing Kurt’s hands from their work on his buttons and kissed him, hard but sweet, his smile never leaving his face. “It’s only fair.”

***

“So, after _that_ discussion, they launched into an argument about whether to use a 28 ligne button or a 30 ligne button. That one millimeter can cause a disaster of apocalyptic proportions.”

“You lost me at ligne.” Blaine popped the last mozzarella ball in his mouth, spun around on his ass and laid his head in Kurt’s lap, looking up at him with a cheeky grin. Barefoot, full-bellied and lounging in a park in New York City with his sweetie – yet another trifecta of perfection.

Kurt looked down and grinned, fingering ringlets of curls as he talked. “Unit of measurement. 1-freaking-40th of an inch. They argued over _that_ for an hour. Same color, same style, same placement. I wanted to set Jacob’s scruffy beard on fire.”

“So, what _do_ you do when that crap happens? We can have protocol arguments that go into the night at the station. I’ve lost at least 2 years of my life listening to shit like that.”

“I used to just sit and seethe because I really didn’t have a place to speak up, but now, I let them rant and rave while I sit there and do the math. If we go with 28, we’ll need one more button, but they cost less. If it ends up as little as $0.03 per shirt difference, that’s the one that wins. Every time.”

“Why don’t they start there?”

“Because that, my sweet beautiful man, would mean we’d only be there for half a day and then lunch wouldn’t be provided.”

“Ahhhh, the stomach rules again.”

“The stomach rul-…” Kurt stopped, feeling his phone buzzing in his pocket. “…sit up, babe.” Blaine did and Kurt pulled out his phone, looking at the caller i.d. with a frown. “It’s Carole?” Blaine made himself busy cleaning up their picnic dinner while Kurt answered. “Hey, Carole…”

“Kurt?”

“Dad?”

“It’s Friday night, Kurt. Where the hell are you? You’re late for dinner.”


	21. Chapter Twenty

Kurt motioned for Blaine to help him move their blanket to a more secluded spot – if that was even possible – and flipped the phone to speaker as they did so. “Dad, I’m in New Yo-…where’s Carole?”

“Who the hell is Carole?”

Kurt stopped walking and dropped his corner of the blanket, gaping at Blaine as panic washed through his body. “I’m sorry. Mom. Where’s Mom?” Blaine took his hand and helped him sit at their new spot, situating himself close so the phone didn’t have to be loud enough for other visitors of the park to hear.

“She forgot something at the store and ran out. You’re avoiding the question, young man. You said you’d be home at 6.”

“…and it’s after 7. I’m sorry. Did…did she leave you alone?”

“Of course she left me alone. I’m not a child. You need to get your ass ho-…”

“Dad. Stop. Get your calendar.” Kurt took hold of Blaine’s hand and held his gaze, pulling strength from him, trying to find the right questions to ask to help guide his dad’s brain back where it belonged.

“I don’t need a god damned calendar to tell me you’re late. And? In a heap of trouble. If you think you’re going to see Bryce this weekend you’ve got another think coming.”

“I know. But, I’m in New York, Dad. I need you to get your calendar.”

“I have it right in front of me and I’m looking at it.” Kurt could hear Burt forcefully pointing to the pages, his finger drumming against the counter. “Today is Friday, August 11. Friday’s are family din-…You’re in New York?”

Kurt barely bit back an audible whimper, squeezing his eyes to let the pooled tears drip down his cheeks. “Yes. I’m in New York. Go back one block…what does it say in blue?”

“Kurt in New York. Oh.” Burt was quiet for a few moments and Blaine gathered Kurt’s tears with a gentle swipe of his thumb, whispering encouragement as Kurt tried to keep up with his dad’s tangled memories. “Are you there with glee club? Did you win? You’d have called me if you won, right?”

“We…we compete tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well. Good luck then.” Burt sighed and Kurt could hear him shuffling with the phone. And then, he heard keys. “I think I’m confused.”

“That’s okay.” Kurt took a deep breath and tried his initial line of questioning again, hoping that the calm would have straightened him out. “Dad? Is Carole home?”

“I don’t know a Carole.”

“Mom…is Mom home yet?”

“No, and she’s been gone for hours. I’m gonna go find her.”

“NO! Dad! No…” Blaine quietly shushed him and rubbed up and down his arm. Kurt nodded and swallowed his panic, starting over. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She’ll be back soon. You know how those lines at Kroger are at this hour.” Kurt rolled his eyes at his lame attempts, squeezing Blaine’s hand when he heard the keys jingling again.

“No, I’m gonna go look for her.” The sound of the back door rattled as Burt argued with it to pull it open. Kurt was suddenly thankful they never were able to get the fool thing to stop sticking in the summer.

“She has the car, doesn’t she? How are you going to get to Kroger?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Dad, please. In fact, you know what…I need you to do something for me.”

“Kurt, I’m going to find your mother. Can’t this wait? Why won’t this fucking door…”

Kurt grimaced at his dad’s language – never angelic, but never this crass. “Dad stop. It can’t wait. Are you back in the house?”

“The door’s stuck and I can’t find my damned hat.”

Kurt sighed in relief and motioned for Blaine to get his phone. In between making suggestions where Burt’s hat might be, he traced 10 digits on the blanket as Blaine typed them one-by-one into his phone. Burt mumbled about having to clean out the coat closet one day, his voice tiring from his anxiety. “Call Finn for me, please?”

“Does he know my name?”

“Just tell him you’re my boyfriend. Don’t be polite. _Tell_ him to go to Dad’s. Don’t ask.” Kurt turned his attention to his dad on the phone. “Did you look on the floor? Or wait, maybe it’s up on your dresser.”

“Oh, I bet it is.”

“And if he resists?” Blaine showed Kurt the number he’d dialed for approval and hit dial when he got it.

“Tell him I’ll tell Rachel he thought her boobs were too small for a lifelong commitment.”

“Are you ser-…” Kurt shot him a look and clicked his phone off speaker. Blaine got up to take his call out of earshot.

“I found it. Okay, I’m leaving to, um…go…where was I…?”

“Why don’t you wait, Dad? She’ll be home soon.”

“No. I’m going. To find Mom. That’s right.”

Kurt made one more delay attempt, asking Burt to go into his old bedroom closet and find a box filled with memorabilia. He had to meticulously walk Burt through the process to find a smaller box with flash drives in it. At his dad’s _Ah-ha!_ Kurt finally, _finally_ heard Finn’s voice calling through the house. He looked up to Blaine and mouthed a thank you, listening as Burt’s confusion escalated at Finn’s presence.

“Hey, Kurt.”

“Finn. Thank you so much. Where in the hell is your mom?”

“I don’t know – why would I?” Finn spoke off the phone to Burt, guiding him back downstairs to find a baseball game on television.

“Because whether you like it or not, I still travel every month and you and Mom have to keep an eye on him. She _cannot_ leave him alone! We’ve been over this.”

“I’m sure it was just for a few minutes.”

“I’ve been on the phone with him for more than a few minutes and he was fully confused when he called. Finn, this isn’t some game. She needs to get a grip on reality or I’m going to have to look into some sort of assisted living.”

“I’ll talk to her, Kurt. Just calm down.”

“So help me GO-“ Blaine’s gentle touch on his arm stopped him and he focused on those hazel eyes, soft and caring, guiding him into a slow calm. “This is completely unacceptable. He could have walked out, gotten lost, been hit by a car, Jesus _Christ_ …”

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I think since he’s seemed a bit better she just took a chance?”

“My father’s safety is not a game of chance, Finn.”

“No. It’s not. Look. I’ll stay until she gets home. He’s okay now. The Reds are killing the Phillies, so he’s happy.”

“Do NOT leave until she gets back. He’s starting to sound winded, so don’t let him get up anymore.”

“Alright, alright. I know what to do, Kurt.”

“If you knew what to do, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on in Mom’s head and I’ll talk to her. What more do you want from me right now? He’s not even my da-…”

“Don’t you _even_ start that shi-…”Kurt took a deep breath and lowered his head to Blaine’s shoulder, breathing in rhythm with Blaine’s hand as it stroked up and down his back. “Thank you for going over. I’ll call tomorrow to make sure things are settled.”

“When will you be home?”

“Late Sunday night. We’re driving up to Findley to get Adrian after we land. Oh, and that box he got out? The little one with the flash drives? Put it in my basket.”

“Okay. I’ll keep a closer eye this weekend. I’m sorry I snapped – I just don’t know what to do either.”

“I know. My hands are tied here and…he scared me.”

“I’ll talk to mom. Oh, and congrats on the boyfriend. That’s real cool he called me.”

“Thank you. Call me if anything changes.”

They disconnected and Kurt flopped back onto the blanket feeling like he’d just fought in a boxing match, bruised, weary and thoroughly fatigued. Blaine laid next to him and stayed quiet, giving him strength if nothing else, to keep from screaming.

After a long silence, Kurt wiped the lone tear dripping down the side of his face. “He doesn’t know who Carole is. She’s been his wife as long as Mom was.”

Kurt blinked at the clouds overhead and rolled his head to look at Blaine, finding such genuine concern in his eyes he had to close his own to block out the horrible of the whole situation. “Tonight. When she comes home he’ll know her.”

“You think?”

“I’ll hope.”

Kurt found Blaine’s hand and twined their fingers together loosely. “I’ll hope with you.” He feared turning into a bawling mess if he touched him more, if Blaine dared look at him again, if he saw the sadness in Blaine’s eyes one more time. “Why would she leave him alone? And without her phone? You don’t think _she’s_ starting to get…”

“Come on, now. Don’t make this worse in your head than it really is. There’s probably a logical explanation.”

“I just hope it’s a forgivable one. I’m fed up with her refusal to deal with the reality of this mess.”

“You said that to Finn, too. What else is going on?”

“She only takes him to the doctor when they have a set appointment. If something seems off, she just waits rather than getting him in. And, she absolutely refuses to take a CPR class. I even brought a manikin over and told her it was on the house and off the record so she’d have no excuses. She found some anyway.”

“Wait. She’s the primary caretaker for a man with advanced heart disease and she’s not CPR certified?”

“Won’t even learn compression only. Refuses.”

“Kurt.”

“I know.” Kurt sat up, pulling Blaine to join him, the sadness that had been pressing him down now spinning into anxiety and worry and anger. “Am I failing him? Should I insist on a nurse? Or moving him? I just…god, Blaine. I feel like he and I have just been shoved into a room of strangers. _Here, take care of him!_ ”

“When was the last time you were there?”

“Tuesday – after the Eastwood funeral.”

“How was he then?”

“Fine. I mean, for him? He bitched about taking his meds, he had no memory of you or even our talk about you only 3 days earlier, but….”

“You talked to him about me?”

“I did. He was lucid last weekend. For a hour. His words are what made me stop fighting.”

“Then I need to offer him my gratitude.”

“He won’t know what you’re talking about.” Kurt’s voice broke and before he could stop them, tears pooled in his eyes. “Oh, Blaine…”

“Sweetheart, c’mere.” Blaine pulled him into his arms, kissing his head and holding him as Kurt’s emotions took over in quiet sniffles and tears. “You’re doing the best you can. And I’m sure Carole is too. From what you’ve told me, she loves the hell out of him.”

Kurt sighed into Blaine’s arms, reigning in his fears, holding them close with Blaine’s protective touch. “I wanted tonight to be beautiful.”

“It is beautiful.” With a tender kiss to his temple, Blaine pulled away, looking up at the pinking sky. “Your love for your dad is so rare, Kurt. And it hurts right now, but it’s still beautiful.” He kissed the damp, tender skin under Kurt’s eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re crazy.” Kurt smiled through his tears, tracing his fingers around Blaine’s face, capturing his lips in a dry, soft kiss.

“What do you want to do? Do you want to stay here a little longer?”

“We came to watch the sunset. I want to watch the sunset.”

“Then, let’s watch the sunset.”

And so they did, folding their blanket and walking wordlessly, hand-in-hand to the esplanade overlooking the bay. Kurt leaned against the rail and Blaine slipped his arms around his waist from behind as the sun settled on the horizon, silhouetting the Statue of Liberty, splashing the water with a million shades of pink and orange and purple.

“You know,” Blaine tightened his hold on Kurt, dotting the back of his neck with kisses. “This is one of a kind, but…”

“…nothing beats a Midwest sunset, does it?”

“No. You just can’t get the expanse of it here.”

“But the city at night? In the center of it? It’s like no other.” Kurt spun in Blaine’s arms, smiling in love. “I can’t wait for you to see Times Square tomorrow night. You’ll refresh my old, tired view.”

“ _Times Square can’t shine as bright as you…”_

_“…you know it’s true…”_

***

Kurt took Blaine on his first subway ride, which was, according to Blaine, quite the let down, although Kurt couldn’t figure out what he had been expecting. _It’s a speeding tube that carries people underground, some of which have the sense not to piss in it – you can’t demand romanticism from it, Blaine._

They stopped at Brinkley’s, a favorite bar just around the corner from Kurt’s apartment, and settled in for people watching, unusual drinks and a huge vat of truffle macaroni and cheese. Even after a mature admonishment from Blaine – _you’ll still feel like shit when you sober up, Kurt -_ they both drank too much. They also vowed to go back for brunch Sunday morning when they’d remember the food. That is, if they decided that getting out of bed and putting on pants was a viable choice for their final day in the city.

Blaine flopped his arm over Kurt’s shoulder as they walked home, his body about two seconds behind his brain, making him open his mouth to speak moments before words came out. “You, my handsome man, had four humongolious drinks. I think you’re drunk.”

Kurt snorted gracelessly, crossing his left leg over his right as he tried to find footing, the sidewalk clearly moving. “ _You’re_ making up words. Definitely drunk. And don’t forget the four shots.”

“I can’t forget them because they’re why the buildings are blurry. And? Humongolious is sssssso a word.”

“I’m surprised you can say it without tr-…tripping over your tongue.”

“I could just stick my tongue in your mouth and then I wouldn’t trip over it.” He leaned over and licked at Kurt’s neck, stumbling forward as Kurt pulled away, screeching and laughing.

“Ew! Stop!” Kurt cackled and grabbed Blaine’s hand, spinning him into himself, kissing him, sloppy and wet, hooking his ankle around Blaine’s legs. When Blaine cupped Kurt’s face in his hands, they backed up against a store window and got lost in each other, forgetting they were outside. With people. Approximately 8 million of them.

Even hearing _get a room, fags_ didn’t stop them. They stopped only when Kurt had to pull up for air. He looked around and started laughing all over again. Blaine furrowed his brow in question and Kurt reached his left hand to a marble door frame, still dotting kisses all over Blaine’s neck. “We’re here.” He cupped Blaine’s face and gave him one more quick kiss. “Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

Kurt missed the huge door pull and Blaine grabbed it, laughing and guiding Kurt inside. “Let’s sober up a little first, love.”

“Ohhh…I dun wanna.”

“Too bad.” They stepped inside the elevator and when Kurt started groping, Blaine grabbed his wrists and held them to his chest, blinking slowly to focus his thoughts and his eyes. “It’s _my_ turn to comfort you. And unlike with…Snooty McPhoto Peckerpants…you’re going to wake up with no shame…and you’re going to remember…” He leaned into Kurt’s neck, tenderly kissing the salty skin there. “… _every_ thing.”

Kurt’s head was still heavy and swimming, but sense broke through, Blaine’s soft breath carrying him from his alcohol-laden daze into a lazy, lovely reality. One he definitely wanted to remember.

***

Blaine set two humongolious glasses of water on the counter with a satisfied grin. “No, no, wait. My playlist this time. Hang on.”

They fiddled and futzed with their iPods, Blaine finally winning by getting his plugged in faster. “My god, you are childish when you’re drunk.”

“And you’re a boob. I don’t see what is wrong with my music.” Kurt huffed and sat down on the coffee table. He missed the coffee table and sat down on the floor, taking off his shirt and flinging it…somewhere.

“Nothing is wrong with your music.” Blaine took the water to Kurt and sat down with him. “I just thought we could have an underwear party.”

“I LOVE underwear parties with you!” Kurt took a huge swig of water and slammed the glass on the coffee table.

“I know you do!”

Kurt lunged and yanked Blaine’s shirt up over his head, crawling onto his lap and flopping his head on his shoulder. He sighed like a child snuggling into his bed after a long day of play. “We’re not in our underwear.”

“No, we’re not.” They stayed there on the wooden floor, swaying to the old Top 40 tunes ringing through the apartment, the lights from the streets shining in the floor-to-ceiling windows the only illumination in the room.

“I don’t know how much of this is that I’m drunk, and how much of it is that you make me feel so amazing.”

“I think a lot of it is that you’re drunk.” Blaine untangled himself from Kurt’s arms – a battle in and of itself because every time he moved, Kurt tightened his hold – and offered him his glass again. “Drink. I want to dance without breaking our faces.”

“That. Is a really good plan. My face is too pretty to break.”

“Your face is the prettiest.” Blaine offered Kurt one more slug of water and taking his own, he stood, pulling Kurt up with him. “Pants off – dance off!”

And they were off, shorts _and_ bodies, moving to the tunes that brought back high school memories, memories of the days their joints didn’t groan upon waking, the days they didn’t have bills or jobs or kids or sick parents or dead best friends. The days they didn’t know each other, but lived only a city away, dancing to the same tunes, living separate lives that were on an unknown trajectory right into each other’s arms.

The days of Pink and Katy Perry. Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars. Adam Lambert and   
Scissor Sister. They danced and twirled, singing at the top of their lungs, pushing away all that hurt, all that weighed them down, all that waited for them at the end of this side-trip to pure, intoxicated bliss.

Neither knew or cared how long they danced. Their humongolious glasses of water were long gone, and multiple bathroom breaks interrupted the party for one as the other continued spinning and swaying. The music played on as they slowed, holding onto each other, sinking into slow, lazy kisses with less fuzzy brains, much surer footing, making their way to the bed.

When the back of Kurt’s legs hit the foot of the bed they stopped, the peels of _We Are Young_ swirling around them. Kurt took a deep breath and sighed, smiling into Blaine’s gaze, their eyes now clear and focused. They sang the closing stanza together, Kurt’s eyes stinging with tears, trying, trying, trying to grasp that feeling of youth, of carefree days, of unburdened love.

_So if by the time the bar closes_  
And you feel like falling down  
I’ll carry you home tonight

Blaine kissed him soundly, their harsh intake of breath echoing in the silence between songs. Before another began, Kurt pulled away. “Can you turn off the music now?”

“Sure…you okay?”

“I will be. I want it to be just you and me.”

_Tonight_  
We are young  
So let’s set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Kurt clung to Blaine, their sweat-slicked bodies making it a challenge. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t be both completely open and desperately grasping at the same time, but he tried. Oh, how he tried. Their bodies rocked in a ball, Blaine’s hot breath on Kurt’s neck, Kurt’s legs folded up, tangled in Blaine’s arms, their motion giving Kurt enough friction to float on the edge of bliss.

With each leisurely thrust, their soft exhalations of breath and quiet deep moans thrummed through the room, every noise, every taste, every touch a haze around them, around their oneness. The only clarity came with Blaine peeling from Kurt’s neck to gaze, to adore, Kurt finding security and assurance, love and even amusement at what they had. At what would come, even though neither of them had a clue what was in store for them. It didn’t matter now. Blaine’s eyes were peace and passion, lust and amazement. And when he dipped down one last time to capture Kurt’s lips in his, working his mouth along his jaw, hot breath in his ear and then _I love you…so much_ , it all sent Kurt over the edge, his head thrown back, a low, deep groan filling the room, his nails digging into Blaine’s back as the tension rapturously uncoiled from his body.

Kurt disappearing into the ecstasy, his lips parting allowing the most musical of sounds to cry out, his eyes bright and full in delirious passion, his neck exposed and taut, all blended together into the perfect painting, sent Blaine over the edge, scooping Kurt closer still, filling him, holding him, rocking together wordless and wrecked, never wanting to let go.

Kurt loosened his grip, sinking his fingers into Blaine’s curls, damp and cool to his touch. He kissed and suckled at the crook of his neck, working his way up his jaw, hooking his ankles more tightly when he felt Blaine shift away. “No. Don’t leave me yet. Keep moving.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Blaine kissed at whatever skin he could find, breathing in the salty mix of cologne and sweat, sex and Kurt. “I don’t know how lo-…”

“I don’t care.” He held on tight, his palm cupping Blaine’s ass, pushing him in again and again, chanting with each slow, deliberate, dragging thrust, “Just stay. Please. Just stay…”

And Blaine did as long as he could, slow strokes, soft breath exchanging in loose-lipped kisses. Finally, he lifted over Kurt, brushing the matted bangs from his brow and gave two more quick thrusts, slipping out with a kiss, wasting no time to gather Kurt back in his arms as he fell to his side.

Kurt curled into Blaine, sighing and snuggling, his booze-fogged brain now clear, focused on this man. His body. His warm breath. His tender, firm touch. His love felt like he’s never felt love before.

As each moment passed, slips of the conversation with his dad, his fear from the whole of the phone call, of the future, of what it meant was really happening, snuck in, marring the beauty and ecstasy they just shared. His breath shuddered and Blaine tightened his hold.

“Hey…you okay?”

Kurt nodded wordlessly, but the tears that were threatening spilled anyway. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Blaine kissed the top of Kurt’s head and pulled him closer still, rubbing his hands up and down the smooth skin of Kurt’s back. “Sweetheart…” More kisses and caresses, never enough. “Why the tears?”

“I didn’t want to come back.”

Blaine paused a beat and pulled back trying to make eye contact, but Kurt had his face buried in his chest and wasn’t unfurling any time soon. “Come back?”

“Back. From where you always take me.”

“Oh. Kurt.” Blaine wriggled free and sat up, chuckling when Kurt whined, clamoring like Adrian would at bed time, deciding hugging Daddy was far superior than getting into bed. “C’mere. I’ll still hang on.” Kurt followed him upright and straddled his lap, resting their foreheads together. “Kurt, we don’t have to come back.”

“We already have.”

“Then let me take you away again.” Kurt’s quiet tears fell as quickly as Blaine could kiss them away, brushing his thumb over his quivering lips, mumbling reassurances and affirmations while Kurt didn’t have words to speak for himself.

And when he did find words, they were pointed and few. “I’m so frightened.”

Blaine stopped. He cupped Kurt’s face in his hands and finally got the eye contact he’d been yearning. “I know you are. But, sweetheart, there is _nothing_ you can do tonight to make it better.”

“I don’t think it’s going to _get_ better.”

“Your dad probably won’t, no. But how you and Carole and Finn cope with it will.”

Kurt bit his lip and covered Blaine’s hands on each side of his face, grasping his wrists, turning to kiss each one, his quivering lips expressing himself better than words ever could.

“But tonight? There is nothing you can do. So, let me take you away. And we’ll stay away…until you can sleep…even if it takes all night.”

Kurt sniffled and climbed off Blaine’s lap to retrieve a tissue, snuggling in next to him with a faint smile. “And tomorrow I can call Carole.”

“Yes. And then we’ll have our day…where you can show me your city. Your heart. And, Kurt, I want to see _every_ thing.”

Kurt blew his nose and chuckled softly. “Everything can’t be done in a day…”

“Then I guess I get to come back.”

“But tonight…just you and me?”

“Just like we started. Sickness and worry and families are not invited.”

Kurt took a deep breath and hooked a leg over Blaine’s, kissing his chest, finding strength with each touch of his lips to Blaine’s skin. “Can I draw us a bath?”

“That sounds amazing.”

“It’s small; we might have to snuggle in close.”

“Mmmm…I think we can manage.”

***

They managed so well that when they got out, Kurt had Blaine bent over the counter and was sinking into him before the towels had hit their bodies. After watching each other’s reflection in the mirror as they fell apart, deciding they were the hottest fuckers to ever exist in New York City, they giggled and teased while sponge bathing each other yet again, vowing to stop touching for at least an hour. Their negotiations took as long as it did getting dressed.

“45 minutes.”

“52 minutes.”

“Okay, this is dumb. An hour. Let’s get gelato. I’m not ready for public sex.”

“Mmmm, gelato. Creamy and drippy and sticky…we coul-…”

“Blaine! Can we at least bring it back here before w-…”

Blaine kissed Kurt and lingered longer than planned. Because Kurt let him. And because his lips were delicious – better than gelato. “We didn’t even last 5 minutes, Blaine.”

“I’m humongoliously sorry.”

Kurt opened the door and smacked Blaine’s ass as he walked by. “You’re not even infinitesimally sorry.”

“No. No, I’m not.”

***

Morning did arrive and Kurt did sleep peacefully. Blaine? Knew how to do comfort. And comfort sex. And comfort underwear parties, another of which they had post-comfort-gelato – pistachio, thank you. This time, the playlist went back decades to music Kurt had never heard before, but Blaine loved and sang and shared as though the melodies contained secrets to the world. Roxy Music and Mott the Hoople to early Chicago and Boston – _with 70’s bands, if you were named after a city, my brother was in love with you_ \- to David Bowie and Squeeze. They drank cheap wine and got a little tipsy again, falling into bed spinning and swirling around each other until neither had the strength or the care to move until morning.

Yes, Burt was still sick. Yes, Kurt was scared to death to call Carole and find out what was going on, but yes. He’d made it through the night feeling loved and secure, and as they’d both planned, it was beautiful.

And now, Blaine sat with him at the kitchen counter as he stared at his phone to call Carole. “Your anxiety is making this worse than it is, Kurt.”

“I know. And the reality is bad enough.”

“So, get it over with. What’s the worst thing that can happen from a phone call?”

“I’ll say something stupid and irreparably burn a bridge.”

“If _she_ did something like that, wouldn’t you let her build it back?”

“Yes, but I’m not a very good builder.”

“Are you kidding? That’s what you do. You build beautiful things every day – from simple drawings, no less.”

“I don’t think tartan would make a very strong bridge.”

“And it makes ugly clothes anyway. Go with ramie.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Stop dilly dallying and call the woman.”

“Uuuuuugh. Give me more coffee.” And Blaine did and Kurt stared and Blaine glared and Kurt huffed and finally, finally, when Blaine threatened to wear bright fuchsia socks with his chocolate brown suit to the theater, he dialed.

“Please don’t wear fuchsi-…Carole! Hi.”

Kurt flipped the phone to speaker and their conversation was on, except…it was off. In that Carole did not understand the gravity of the situation she’d put his dad in the night before.

“I was only gone for a few minutes.”

“Actually, you weren’t. He was really riled up when he called, so you had to have been gone for a bit and he and I were on the phone for awhile too. He almost left.”

“Where would he go? I had the car.”

“Carole, he was going to look for Mom.”

And she fell silent. And Blaine kissed Kurt’s temple. And Kurt waited until Carole’s mouth caught up with her head. “Why…why was he looking for Lizzie?”

“Because, Carole. He has dementia. And he was scared. And confused. He knew it was Friday, but he was mad at me for being late for family dinner and he didn’t know why dinner wasn’t ready.”

“Oh.”

“And…he didn’t remember anyone named Carole.” Kurt heard the scratch of a kitchen chair on the linoleum floor and grabbed Blaine’s hand. “Carole? Are you okay?”

“Y-yes. Just…sitting down now. He…he knew me when I got home…”

“That’s good. I think he was just stuck on me, dinner and Mom, you know? So, in that world…”

“I didn’t exist.” She was quiet for a few more moments and Kurt waited again. “He had been doing so well.”

“I know. But, you still can’t leave him. And if you do need to go out, call me. Or Finn. Or Mrs. Shanks next door. Or, take him with you – he misses the fresh air. Just please. Do not leave him alone.”

“He could have walked right into traffic…” Finally Carole’s reserve broke and she sobbed, leaving Kurt feeling helpless and not a little bit hopeless.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure out how to best handle him. How to give you breaks. I know he’s exhausting.”

“I am so tired, Kurt.”

“I know. And I’m sorry if I haven’t been as much help as you’d hoped when I moved back.”

“You’ve been great. I just…I just didn’t think…I keep hoping that it’ll get better. And it was – or at least, it felt like it!”

“It’s what we want to happen. More than anything.”

“He’s too young for this, you know. This isn’t fair. He has more to offer the world.”

And at that, Kurt teared up and they sniffled together, grieving the man they both loved more than any other. “We’re going to get through this, okay? But, you have to talk to me. And you have to trust me. And you have to lean on Finn when I travel, okay?”

“I’m so sorry, Kurt…”

“It’s okay. It’s…it worked out this time. Can you call the afterhours number and get him in to Dr. Asshat on Monday?”

Carole sniffled and snorted, chuckling through her tears. “Yes. I’ll call right now.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now go play with your new boyfriend. And don’t call me until you land tomorrow. I’ve got this.”

“I know you do. Just don’t forget you don’t have to have it alone.”

They said their goodbyes and Kurt sighed, dabbing his nose, searching Blaine’s eyes for a little hope? Encouragement? Sunshine?

“Dr. Asshat?”

Or humor. Humor was good. “The cardiologist, Dr. Shivner. Dad hates him, but he’s lovely. And firm. And…” Kurt’s smile left his face and he twisted the tissue in his hand. “Do you think he’s having more blockage?”

Blaine nodded sadly. “I’m obviously not a doctor, but…”

“But you’re a medic. You know how the heart works anyway.”

“I do…and…” Blaine stopped talking and kissed Kurt’s temple before clearing their empty mugs from the counter. “Do you still want to go out today, or just stay in?”

“We’re going out. I refuse to mope. Like you said last night, there’s not a damned thing I can do for him right now anyway.”

“I’ll take my camera. Maybe some pictures of you in New York now will help him keep his timelines straight.”

“You’re amazing.”

Blaine scrunched his nose and slid Kurt off the stool to start getting ready. “It’s not completely altruistic. I’ve decided I’m decorating the walls of my bedroom in Kurt Hummel Portrait Chic.”

“Oh Blaine. That’s SO 2018.”

***

“My god, we are sexy bitches.”

Kurt met Blaine’s gaze in the full-length mirror, adjusting his pocket square into a proper Cagney fold. “Yes. Yes, we are.” He squirreled his mouth, contemplating the fold with his more casual scarf and Blaine’s rolled up pant hem. “Maybe a puff instead of a fold.” He yanked the sky blue fabric out of his pocket, flipping and fluffing it, settling it back in with a smile. “Much better.”

They shared another glance in the mirror and Kurt bit at his bottom lip. “Problem is, I really just want to rip that suit right back off of you.”

Blaine wagged his eyebrows, still a little wobbly-kneed from their romp only a half hour earlier. “Do we have time?”

“No.”

“Pity.” He fidgeted with his floppy bow tie, his eyes still gliding up and down the reflection of Kurt’s body, his linen striped suit accentuating every beautiful thing about the man wearing it. “Speaking of…we’re down to two condoms.”

Kurt’s eyes popped open even further and he turned to look at the real Blaine, not his reflection. “We started with a full box…two days ago!” He counted in his head and readjusted. “Okay, two and a half if you count Wednesday night. Are you _kidding_ me?”

Blaine couldn’t look Kurt in the eye without blushing. “I’m not.” Finally he broke, laughing and walking away from the mirror. “I have never…in my life…”

“Me either. Holy shit.” Kurt shook his head and bent down to re-tie a shoe, chuckling all the way.

Blaine groaned at the view, having to close his eyes to find his voice. “When, um…when do we leave tomorrow?”

“Flight’s at 3. I’ll have a car here around 1:15.” When Kurt stood, he folded Blaine into his arms, spinning and waltzing to the kitchen counter to pick up his pocket needs.

“Do you think two will…”

Kurt kissed him mid-thought, running his tongue along the curve of Blaine’s bottom lip, smiling against his lips when Blaine dramatically dipped down, weak-kneed and silly. “No. We’ll stop somewhere.”

Blaine sighed and smiled, kissing the tip of Kurt’s nose. “I love New York.”

***

Blaine looked around the restaurant with the standard tourist face, mouth slack, eyes searching everywhere, clumsily bumping into the table as he sat, so busy trying to understand the peculiar set-up. He took the menu from the waiter with a grin and properly blushed at Kurt’s amused gaze.

The truth was, this had been his modus operandi all day – slack-jawed, eyes up, out and around, the true, adorable, enamored tourist. The weather had been beautiful, albeit stifling hot, and Kurt had taken him to so many places, he wasn’t sure he’d remember them all when it came time to report back to Adrian, who, after a phone call that morning, had assured him without question that he wanted to know _every_ spot they’d visited. Wanted to hear every story that there was to tell. Because he had watched television and seen movies and _even though I’m just 5 Dad_ , he knew New York was awesome _._

They visited High Line Park, a man-made space constructed from an old elevated rail system connecting Chelsea and West Village neighborhoods. Chelsea Market left them both stuffed and wanting more – _we’re coming here first next time –_ and the little coffee shop near Kurt’s old apartment in West Village offered the most delicious cupcakes Blaine had ever tasted. _No, we’re coming_ here _first next time._ They walked through the Garment District, Kurt showing Blaine all of his old college haunts and popped into boutiques where he’d done projects and even sold a few of his garments. Blaine perfectly played the role of blushing boyfriend when Kurt would show him off to owners who still, after all of these years, remembered and respected him, cooing at the two lovebirds like grannies finally happy to marry off the stubborn spinster granddaughter.

Finally, they made their way to Times Square so Blaine could have the full tourist experience, where he called Adrian again, who by now was no longer impressed that Daddy was in New York because he was beating Nana at hop scotch, for goodness sake. After Kurt laughed at Blaine as he named off every musical he wanted to see – basically by reading off all of the billboards – they landed in Central Park, skirting along the south edge of it, plopping happily onto a bench as they shared a cup of tiramisu gelato like two heart-eyed teenagers.

It had been a day of miles walked, a million cab rides ridden and tons and tons of shared stories of their 20’s, maturing into adulthood in such completely different ways, yet learning the same lessons of caring for yourself first, when to speak your mind, when to bite your tongue, when to dive into love without care and when to care without diving into love.

And now, it was date night. A _proper date_ as Kurt had called it, not to belittle the few dates they’d had in Ohio, but yes. A proper date complete with suits, ties and baby blue socks, a special dinner and then of course, _Chicago_ at Ambassador Theatre.

“So, why is there a grill in the middle of our table?”

“Because we prepare our own food. It’s all beef, from cuts you’re familiar with to offal – if you want to try something like that.”

“Have you?”

“A few things. I like tongue and sweetbreads.”

Blaine scoured the menu, his eyebrows raising and furrowing with the different offerings. “Wait…testicargot? Are you kidding me?”

“They’re delicious.” Kurt lowered Blaine’s menu and leaned in. “And last I checked, you love balls.”

“Yours…are divine. I’m not so sure about those that are…bovine.”

“Cute. It’s up to you…but, seriously – do you like escargot?”

“Can’t say I’ve had it. They don’t have snail farms in Findley.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

Kurt grinned and sat back with a squeak. “Good. You’re going to love this.”

And he did. Everything was delicious. And filling. And Blaine loved watching Kurt work the chopsticks as he carefully placed the thin cuts of meat on the grill, his fingers graceful and skilled, knowing exactly when to flip, when to let it rest, when to put the vegetables on so they could get a full plateful with each offering.

It was perfect. _Chicago_ was perfect. Kurt was perfect. New York, with all of his trepidation of not fitting in, not belonging, not being a part of Kurt’s world here, was absolutely perfect.

As they sat on the glowing ruby stairs in Times Square, Blaine noticed an odd reverie in Kurt’s gaze as he looked around at the lights, the billboards, the atmosphere. “What are you thinking?”

“Oh…just that I once thought this was my future. It’s interesting to linger here now. Whenever I used to come to shows, it was always get in, get out, avoid the tourists, but just sitting here, remembering what I dreamt and what came to be – so far from that dream…I think everything worked out as it should have.”

“And what’s really cool…” Blaine took Kurt’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “…our stories aren’t even done being written yet.”


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

Kurt had to hide his amusement at Blaine’s changed attitude at the airport for their flight home. He had been such a nervous ninny on the way out, but now he sauntered around check-in, security and boarding like an old pro. He still wasn’t terribly comfortable with the private car angle of things, resisting not only the previous night for their _proper date_ but again this afternoon for the ride back to the airport. But even then, he gawked less and conceded more. One more trip and he _would_ be a pro.

They buckled into their first class seats and ordered drinks, sighing in unison as their brains started to transition to Ohio. Kurt looked down at their intertwined hands and squeezed, peaceful contentedness spilling over him for his first New York to Ohio journey in years. His dad still waited for him and Kurt still had no idea what he was going to do or how he was going to handle any decline he might find, but knowing he wasn’t going to have to do it alone, that he had a place of reverie and retreat when it got too overwhelming was a great relief.

And even more importantly, he simply wasn’t alone anymore. He’d come to the point of not even minding being alone, the confines of a relationship making his two-city living more difficult, but now that he _wasn’t_ alone – in the most unexpected of ways when you factored Adrian into the picture – he had to admit that he’d been lonely. And complacently unhappy.

When the engine revved to pull back from the gate and his eyes met Blaine’s, the happiness he felt now was physical. His heart raced, his cheeks flushed, his toes even curled in his loafers. And when he spoke, even he was surprised at the breathiness of his voice – all strength zapped away to deal with the joy.

“Did you have a good time?”

“You have to ask?”

“I want to ask. You were so nervous when we left Ohio.”

“You have made me the happiest man alive, Kurt Hummel. I had the time of my life.”

“So, you’ll come back?”

“Of course. And maybe one time we could bring Adrian? I think he’d love it too.”

“Definitely. There’s so much we didn’t get to. Central Park alone could take days, especially with him.”

Their drinks came right before the pilot called for crosscheck, but neither drank, snuggling in for take-off, four hands tangled into one.

Kurt always closed his eyes, escaping into the physical rush speeding down the runway. It was his favorite part of flying.

“You ready for this?”

“For???” He didn’t open his eyes to answer, wanting to experience it all like his first time, every time.

“Whatever awaits us.”

Kurt took a deep breath as the plane accelerated and squeezed Blaine’s hands when the nose tipped up. A blissful smile swallowed his face as the full of the plane left the ground, flying freely higher and higher into the hazy August sky.

“I’m ready.”

***

And, as it never does, life had not waited on Kurt and Blaine. Adrian greeted them at his Nana’s with shouts and stories and jumping and dancing and an outfit that Nana had sewn for Lizzie and a new friend that he absolutely had to introduce to them but he’d gone to bed already so maybe they should stay another night and _what do you mean you’re tired and want to sleep in your own bed, that is so completely UNFAIR_.

Kurt felt like he’d had too much to drink again, his head was swirling and he wasn’t sure he could walk without being spun backwards by Adrian’s unending energy. It had been, however, lovely to meet Nana – Maggie’s Mom, Sharon, as adults tended to call her – and decidedly fell more in love with Maggie by simply being in her mother’s presence. She was graceful and funny, stylish and cozy and utterly, completely, unequivocally in love with Blaine Anderson. In short, she was brilliant.

She sent them home with homemade gluten-free blueberry muffins and a divine looking plum tart that was, as shared under her breath, far from gluten-free. As Kurt kissed her cheek goodbye, she made sure Blaine was occupied getting Adrian into his car seat and lovingly, but firmly grabbed his face, her eyes dazzling and direct.

“You’re as beautiful and amazing as he said you were. But if you so much as _think_ of hurting him…”

Kurt smiled and wrapped her in his arms. “…then you have every permission to hurt me in return.” They pulled apart and he swore her smile could be seen throughout the entire county. “He told me on the flight home that he was the happiest man alive. I intend to keep it that way.”

“Just love him. That’s all you have to do.”

“Easiest job in the world.”

As Kurt climbed into the car, Blaine started the engine and the questions. “What were you two talking about out there?”

“What a shithead you are.”

“Oh my goodness. Kurt, that is a bad word.”

“Excuse me, Adrian. We were talking about what a stinker your daddy is.”

“Oh. Well, everyone knows _that._ ”

***

And just as life with Adrian hadn’t waited or changed since their trip, life in general hadn’t either. Burt’s appointment with Dr. Asshat had been unsatisfactory in Kurt’s mind, only tending to his spell with a slight shift in medications. Kurt had always liked Dr. Shiver, but thought maybe a change in physicians might be necessary, especially when his question about any resources in caring for dementia patients was met with a pile of pamphlets. He felt like he was in Ms. Pillbury’s office in high school.

Of course, fires still happened in Lima and throughout the county and Blaine had fought his share of them, Kurt had given his support to his share of them, but they only worked one together. After a particularly arduous day-that-bled-into-evening, Kurt took over with Adrian, picking him up from day care, fixing dinner, bathing and snuggling Adrian into bed while Blaine soaked in the tub and lazed on the couch. It was a scene out of Leave it to Beaver – with a little gender-bending for fun – and Kurt felt oddly at home in it.

At evening’s end, after Blaine had gone to bed and Kurt had stayed up to make some overseas calls, Kurt finally climbed into bed with his tablet, mindlessly twisting his fingers in Blaine’s curls as he read. He was easily serenaded by Blaine’s light snoring and was loving the smell of the new oil they had purchased in New York, the lingering scent from an earlier massage wafting through the bed sheets every time he shifted. After reading his last paragraph five times, Kurt gave up, turning out his bedside light and snuggled in to rub bottoms, tangle legs and go to sleep. Ever since New York, it was as if he’d forgotten how to sleep alone, so the occasional nights at Blaine’s were welcome.

Just as he began the smooth journey into sleep, he heard the doorknob turn.

“Daddy?”

“Ade? C’mere. Will I do?” Kurt motioned for Adrian to come to his side of the bed and rubbed at his bare arm when he approached. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Aw. Bad dreams stink. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Adrian stood there nibbling at the spikes on Lizzie’s head. “What, um…what does daddy normally do when you have a bad dream?”

“He lets me come into bed with him.”

“OH! Well…come on in. Here.” Kurt lifted the sheet and laid flat while Adrian crawled in. “Get between us, but quietly. Daddy’s really tired…”

Adrian climbed over Kurt, sharing hushed giggles when they got tangled in the sheets and then not-so-hushed giggles when they got less hushed trying to hush each other. “Be my big spoon?”

“You get cozy first…”

And he did and Kurt curled around him, breathing in Adrian’s pear-apple shampoo, falling in love with the feeling of his soft curls tickling his face. They rested quietly for long moments until…

“Daddy’s snoring, Kurt.”

“Rub his back a little. That always makes him stop.”

Adrian did and when it worked he giggled again, this time stirring Blaine. “Mmm? Buddy?”

“Hi, daddy. Kurt’s being my big spoon tonight. Is that okay?”

Blaine rolled over and his smile lit the dark room, lazy and gorgeous, unearthing his hand to comb into Kurt’s hair. “It’s awesome. Bad dream?”

“Yes. I fell into a fried egg.”

“You WHAT?” Kurt and Blaine called out and busted out laughing in unison, leaving Adrian visibly irritated. Until their laughs caught him up with them and he was laughing too.

“It was hot and slimy! And it’s not funny.” Except he was still laughing.

“Dude. It’s funny. Now that it’s not real.” Blaine tickled at his son’s belly and kissed his forehead when he squawked in protest. “And now it’s time to sleep. Can we do this, all three of us in here?”

“Yep!” This time Kurt and Adrian were in unison as Kurt pulled him in closer, nuzzling his nose into Adrian’s curls one more time.

He still hated kids.

“I could pretend to be bacon frying. Tssss. Tssss. Tsssssssssss.”

Really. He did. Hated them. They were horrible.

“Kurt, you’re a big old meanie head.”

Except maybe this one.

***

And then there were the moments where Kurt wondered if maybe, in fact, he did hate all kids. Because, as it happened, Adrian could be _that_ kid. The kind Kurt hated.

Adrian could be belligerent.

“But I don’t _like_ macaroni and cheese when it’s white. It’s supposed to be orange.”

“It’s just the color of the cheese, Ade. It will taste just like it always does.”

“I’m still not going to eat it.”

“Then you’re going to be very hungry.”

“I don’t like you anymore.”

“At the moment, I don’t like you either.”

And he could be dictatorial.

“The water’s too hot.”

“You had no problem with it when I started the bath.”

“Now, it’s too hot. I’m not getting in.”

“This isn’t a democracy. You’re taking a bath. I’ll add some cool water. Just get in.”

“No.”

Which was really difficult to take seriously when the imp was standing naked in the middle of the bathroom, holding a blue submarine and a pink-haired alien.

Kurt also learned in that moment that lifting a dictatorial, belligerent naked 5 year old and expecting him to bend at the waist to sit down in the perfectly tempered water was really something that should be relegated to professional…moms? Parents? Wrestlers? Someone other than himself. Because he was now drenched and Adrian was still standing, and still naked, and still in tight possession of a blue submarine and a pink-haired alien. He was also no closer to being clean or ready for bed.

Adrian could also be handsy. In the completely unpleasant, hitty way that children could be when they weren’t getting their way.

“I don’t _want_ this book.” And it sailed across the room.

“Then lay down and go to sleep without one.”

“But, I’m supposed to get a story before bed!”

“You just threw a book. You lost your story tonight.”

"I GET A STORY BEFORE BED!"

"Not tonight. I’m sure your da-…"

“Well, you’re NOT my dad,” and at the word _not_ he punched Kurt in the arm.

When he wound up to smack at his chest, Kurt grabbed his wrist and held it and the boy’s gaze. “But, I’m in charge – by order of your dad – and you and I both know this is _NOT_ how he has taught you to treat people.”

With his hand pinned, Adrian kicked at Kurt’s thigh and flipped himself backwards onto his pillows, underestimating his headboard and firmly whacking himself right into it. The tears flowed and Kurt summoned up his compassion to try to comfort the child only to be met with more flailing limbs and more awful words. “And you’re not my mom either, so just LEAVE!”

And so he did, letting Adrian rage it out until blessed silence filled the old house. He made himself a cup of tea, pulled out some paperwork that needed to be done and settled in at the kitchen table pretending that the words hadn’t hurt. Because they had. In a way he could have never imagined.

When Blaine returned from his meeting an hour later, Kurt hadn’t moved, even though his paperwork was complete, and his tea was now cold.

“The honeymoon is over.”

“You look like you’ve been run over by a train.”

“I remembered why I hate kids.”

“Oh, shit.”

By the time Kurt finished regaling Blaine with the tales of his son’s increasingly horrific behavior, Blaine had promised him the moon, the stars, the planets, and finally the planets that had yet to be discovered in exchange for his son’s harassment. While on a scale of horrific behaviors, Adrian’s still rested on the low end, but it was far and beyond what Maggie and Blaine would have ever tolerated.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt. You know he didn’t mean…”

“I know. I think.” He sipped the last of his tea, grimacing at the cold of it and sighed. “I know.”

“Do you want to go home instead of staying over? You do have that luxury when he’s a shit.”

“I’d actually prefer to stay. Try again in the morning. Hold you all night.”

So, that’s what they did, falling in to Blaine’s bed, curling into each other, happily naked and sated, whispering in the dark until sleep threatened to take over.

“Are we pushing too much on him? I mean, you put those pictures of us up next to the one of you guys and Maggie and…I’m here a lot and suddenly taking care of him more…which I love, don’t get me wrong, but…”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Maybe? How do you ask a five-year-old what the right thing is?”

“By watching him, I guess…and after tonight…”

“But he’s never acted like this before. I mean, he has moments – you’ve seen those – but, all evening? And he’s never _ever_ said anything negative about you. He thinks you’re better than me half the time.”

“Well, I don’t buy that, but it did feel all out of charact-…”

“DADDY!!! DADDY!! Oh my goodness, DADDY!”

“Oh god. That’s the…” Blaine bolted up, grabbed a pair of underwear from the floor, hoping they were his and stumbled into Adrian’s room, groaning when he opened his door. “Kurt! I, um…I’m going to need your help.”

Kurt got up and slipped on the other pair of underwear on the floor, grateful it was his because Blaine’s would never fit over his ass, and went to the hall until it hit him.

The smell.

The sound of the whining, sniveling mess of a boy in the room being carried, face out into the bathroom.

The sight. The vomit covering Adrian’s bed when he peeked in to avoid seeing the volcano erupt again as Blaine barely got him into the bathroom.

“I’ll…shit. I’ll get the sheets.”

“Thank you…oh, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Kurt ignored the disgusting noises coming from the bathroom and gulped, piling everything from Adrian’s bed into the middle and pulling up the corners of the sheets, heading to the basement. “Quick, toss his nightshirt up here.” Somehow he caught the soiled shirt on the sheet pile and got everything downstairs, throwing it all into the laundry as if it were nuclear waste. “Dear god, I hate kids.”

Until he went upstairs. Until he saw Adrian, ragged and dark eyed and stumbling back to his bed, now haphazardly covered with a blanket that looked well-loved and over-worn. Adrian’s horrible behavior became clear and all Kurt wanted to do was make it better for the little man. “You okay?”

“I frewed up.”

“I noticed. What can I get you?”

“Daddy’s getting ice chips. Maybe a hug?”

“How about another nightshirt, too?”

“Oh my goodness.” Kurt dug in Adrian’s drawer and jumped when Adrian coughed, afraid another eruption might happen. “Kurt? Can you get…there’s an orange one with a flower on it?”

“This one?” Kurt pulled out a faded t-shirt, complete with a few holes and barely-there flower, smiling sympathetically when Adrian’s smile wasn’t capable of reaching his eyes.

“It’s Mommy’s.”

“The perfect hug for when you’re sick.” Kurt wiggled it onto Adrian’s head, guiding his arms through the over-sized holes and holding him close for a few moments before helping him get settled into his pillows. “Need another blanket for on top?”

“Yes. I’m cold. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a big old meanie head.”

“Well, now I know you didn’t feel good, buddy. It’s okay.” He kissed Adrian’s hot temple and rubbed his hair, smiling when Adrian moaned into the touch.

“You’re _not_ my mommy, but Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“You make me feel good like she did.” He sighed as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “You hug like her.”

Blaine cleared his throat and interrupted their love story, bringing a bowl of ice chips to Adrian’s bedside table. “For when you’re ready – don’t eat a lot, now.” When there was no answer, Blaine took Kurt’s hand and they let him rest, hoping that had been the first, last and worst of their night.

When they settled back into Blaine’s bed, Kurt laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve been likened to a woman that didn’t make me feel like shit.”

“There is nothing womanly about you.”

“Besides my voice. And my interests. And my complexion.”

“There is _nothing_ womanly about you. You’re maternal, nurturing – he feels that. That’s not womanly. It’s just beautiful.”

They rested together, fingers tangling, their breathing synchronizing as the chaos of the previous scene settled around them. And then…

“I love him, you know.”

“I know.” Blaine rolled to his side tugging Kurt in close. “I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

***

_Kurt [09-14-23 13:17]: Daddy? I frewed up._

_Blaine [09-14-23 1:24]: What? Oh no…Adrian’s bug?_

_Kurt [09-14-23 13:25]: Remind me, did he die from it? Because I think I’m going to._

_Blaine [09-14-23 1:26]: He’s still alive and well. Did you make it all the way to New York?_

_Blaine [09-14-23 1:33]: Kurt? Babe? You okay?_

_Kurt [09-14-23 13:36]: Oh my god…yes. Barely made it into the apartment._

_Blaine [09-14-23 1:38]: I’m so sorry. At least he got over it quickly??_

_Kurt [09-14-23 13:41]: He puked what? Twice? Slept for 12 hours and watched Disney the next day. I think he got the wimpy version._

_Blaine [09-14-23 1:43]: What can I do?_

_Kurt [09-14-23 13:45]: From Ohio? Not a heap. I’ll just lay here, get up to blast disgusting things out of my orifices and whine. I’m fine._

_Blaine [09-14-23 1:46]: I probably shouldn’t be laughing, should I?_

_Kurt [09-14-23 13:49]: I hate you. And that child of yours. Which doesn’t matter because I’ll be dead in a few hours._

_Blaine [09-14-23 1:51]: Okay. When I speak, I’ll speak highly of you._

_Kurt [09-14-23 13:53]: Thank you._

Kurt continued puking until there was nothing left but bile, his ass sore from the diarrhea, the muscles in his gut aching from the heaving and his entire body agonized from the…evil that was originated in a curly-haired, amber-eyed runt named Adrian. Who probably felt like ten pounds of shit for making Kurt sick. During Fashion Week.

_Good. Serves him right._

Sleep finally took over and the vomiting subsided. The aches and pains and newly stuffy head and cough, however? They were having a party…when he wasn’t sleeping. Which he had been, blissfully, until he felt a dip in the bed and warm breath on his cheek.

“You okay?”

“What?” Kurt opened his eyes and didn’t move, sure he was dreaming because there is no way in hell… “Blaine?”…that Blaine had hopped a plane at the last minute to fly to New York City.

Except that when he felt the same breath on his cheek and the soft lips on his temple, they couldn’t belong to anyone else. They’d better not belong to anyone else.

“Go back to sleep, beautiful. Just know I’m here when you get up.”

“Blaine? What in the hell?”

Kurt groaned as he rolled over, every inch of his body screaming at him for moving against the sheets. For moving at all. “Hi.”

“You did not fly out here.”

“I did.”

“You have a job.”

“And back up.”

“And a child.”

“Who has a Nana who loves us.”

“It costs a fortune to fly last minute.”

“I have savings.”

“No one can find a flight to New York in a matter of hours.”

“You did once.”

“You wound the sick. That’s really rude.”

“Apologies. Stand-by paid off really well.”

“Blaine.”

“Kurt.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’ll get better.”

“I’ll be there when you do. What can I get you?”

Kurt smacked his lips and swallowed, conceding to the beautiful man’s unwavering loyalty. “Ice chips.” He sat up with great moaning and ran his hand over his nest-like hair. “Actually no. If you’re going to be an idiot and fly out here…”

“What do you need?”

“For you to kill patient zero?”

“Someone in Adrian’s kindergarten class, I’d presume.”

“Yes. That one. And a boiled potato.”

“A boiled potato.”

“You’ll have to go to the market. Do you mind?”

“This is why I’m here. A boiled potato.”

“With butter, which I have. Need potatoes.”

“Mom’s remedy?”

Kurt mustered a smile and pointed to his cheek for a kiss, which he immediately got. “Yes. They’re delicious after an upset stomach.”

And it was the most delicious boiled potato he’d ever eaten, as all post-sickness boiled potatoes were, and Blaine’s doting made Kurt ridiculously happy even though he’d never, ever have asked for it or even admitted it. But the best part was when he got better. And they had a day and a half to enjoy Fashion Week and to explore more of New York. And each other. Mostly each other. In between coughs. And, after a thousand baths and showers to wash off every memory of sick.

Kurt still hated kids. But, he loved Blaine.


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

Adrian hopped out of the car and grabbed at Kurt’s hand. He hugged Lizzie securely under his other arm and they headed towards Kurt’s dad’s house.

Kurt’s childhood home. The place that, from the outside, looked like it always had – nicely landscaped with splashes of color dotting the perennial greenery. If you could peek into the backyard, you’d find a large, overflowing vegetable and herb garden, started by his mother, kept to half size by her mother and Kurt until her death and then kept well enough until Carole came and salvaged it, bringing it back to the full life it was intended to have. It was homey and lovely and ordinary and it always made Kurt feel grounded. Loved.

Lately, the differences arose when he walked inside the house. It smelled different. The furnishings were frequently hidden with blankets and paperwork, flotsam from daily living that neither Burt nor Carole had energy or mind to put away at the end of the day. The kitchen table was typically cluttered, indicating they rarely ate there together anymore. Burt’s ball caps had new landing places, never the same place twice, and the counter by the telephone was loaded with scraps of notes, phone numbers, medicinal directions and appointments.

It wasn’t home anymore. It was an interim for life as they knew it and life as it would one day be.

But, as it was, interim deserved time and attention as well, so it was decided this would not only be the final cook-out before winter blew in, but also the time to meet Kurt’s new family, be that as it may.

Blaine was quietly nervous and Adrian acted as though he was meeting his next best friend.

“So, what do I call your dad, Kurt?”

“You can call him Burt. He never liked ‘Mr. Hummel’ too much.”

“Your names rhyme! Kurt and Burt. Kurt and Burt.”

“And his wife is Carole. My brother is Finn and he might have a girlfriend here, but I don’t know her name.”

“What if I forget everyone’s name?”

“We’ll remind you. Just be Adrian and you’ll do fine.”

Kurt tugged on Blaine’s hand, heading toward the backyard. “Sounds like everyone’s outside, thank god.” He snuck a quick kiss before rounding the side of the house and they were off with big smiles, loud greetings, hugs, kisses and oh-my-goodnesses all over the place. Adrian was the center of attention, and he soaked it up like a dry sponge.

Until he spotted a mane of yellow hair two houses down. Kurt couldn’t believe it, but Adrian remembered. And gasped. “Is that the yellow-haired girl? From the parade???”

“Olivia? I think so.”

“Can I? Can I please? Can I please go over and play with Oh-livia? Please???”

After a quick adult conference, it was decided that Adrian would probably have more fun with a playmate, so Blaine and Finn took him down to scope out the options. The new quiet was almost deafening.

“Do you love him?”

“Excuse me?”

“The boy. Do you love him?”

“Adrian? Yes, dad. I do. We have a lot in common.”

“And his dad?”

“I love Blaine more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

“Even Bryce? You sure you’re over him?”

“Dad, that was ten years ago. He’s engaged. The High School Sweetheart chapter in my life is officially closed.”

“So, is this Blaine guy good in bed?”

“What? Dad!”

Carole grabbed at Kurt’s shirt sleeve and dragged him to the grill, apparently their new secret discussion location. “He’s been doing that. Being inappropriate. It’s creeping me out and I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Have you looked at any of the pamphlets from Dr. Shivner?” Kurt had to roll his eyes at how completely inadequate that sounded, even though he’d found decent enough ideas on how to cope. How to react.

“Some. Not much. I just…I feel like I’m reading about someone else’s life, not my own.”

“But, Carole. It _is_ your life. And it’s my dad’s life. You can’t keep ignoring it.” Carole bent to check the propane tank of the grill and fired it up, busying herself with the knobs that really didn’t need any adjusting. “Do you want to help him or not?”

“I do.”

“They’re helpful, Carole and I found a few websites that have been too. They say the best thing to do is not react harshly.”

Carole quirked an eyebrow and huffed.

“Yeah, I know, I just did. Knee jerk. Anyway, redirect him? He used to keep baseball stats. Does he do that anymore?”

“He does. Some.”

“Okay, let’s get that rolling again maybe. Finn and Blaine can help. I don’t know the difference between a home run, a touch down or a goal.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Carole, you know this; I watch sports for the sweaty men.”

“So, we keep baseball charts and he’ll stop pinching my nipples?”

“Stop. I don’t…Jesus. We need to keep his mind on other things. Keep him stress-free and when he does crap like that, redirect him to something that will take his full attention.”

“Like a god damned child.”

“Like a god damned child. Yes.” He wraps her into his arms as soon as the tears threaten to fall down her cheeks. “We’ll get through this, Carole. He needs us to.”

Their hug was stilled by a swift smack to Carole’s ass delivered by none other than Burt Hummel, the new playboy in Lima who apparently could maneuver in a wheelchair like a pro – even over grass. “Let me in on some of that action there.”

Carole pulled away from Kurt and kissed Burt’s cheek, wheeling him around and back to the picnic table. “I need you to brush the marinade on the chicken, big guy.”

“I’d like to brush something all over you!”

Kurt rolled his eyes and headed to the front, happy to see Blaine and Finn returning.

“I think we’ve lost Adrian for the day.”

Kurt took Blaine’ s hand and squeezed, his eyes intense, speaking quiet words of _give me strength_ in spite of his bouncy demeanor. “Oh yeah?”

With a simple wink, Kurt knew Blaine got it. He was there. For him. With him. Walking along side even when they couldn’t speak about it. “Yep. The girl with the yellow hair has stolen him…possibly forever.”

“Well, I sure as hell hope they have orange macaroni and cheese over there or he’ll come back before we can redecorate his room.”

***

The evening went poorly. Horrendously, actually. Blaine was sympathetic and full of _it’s okay_ and _I know this isn’t how he typically treats people_ and _really, he didn’t hurt my feelings_ but Kurt was horrified and humiliated and so close to yet another round of tears that by the time Blaine had gotten Adrian into bed that night, he had to talk himself out of walking out of the house without so much as a goodnight peck on the cheek.

Burt had been overtly sexual with Carole just about every time he opened his mouth. He pinched Finn’s girlfriend’s ass twice (Kurt still couldn’t remember her name because really, he was so horrified for her that his embarrassment took all of his brain power) and the icing on the cake? He asked Blaine what brand of anal douche he used to clean up for his son.

“What? You _told_ me to get more educated on what…guys…do. So I did!”

That? He remembered. Naturally.

It was a complete nightmare. When everyone was packing up to leave, Burt started to cry, confused as to why his children were leaving him. It was the worst Kurt had ever seen. It was the worst he ever wanted to see him, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be.

He had gone home that night in spite of Blaine’s sincere suggestion that being alone might not be a great idea. In spite of knowing how well Blaine did comfort. The fact was, he needed to be alone with his thoughts and sadness. With his computer. With his untrained, inept and yet very earnest attempts at researching doctors, methods of coping. He had to tear the situation apart into pieces, re-arrange them and maybe, if he couldn’t sew them back together into something lovely, maybe just maybe he’d a super duper magical fantastical injection that would make his dad come back to him.

Because that man at the cookout? Was not Burt Hummel.

A few days passed, and Adrian was having his first ever sleepover at a friend’s house giving Kurt and Blaine a rare night alone at Kurt’s. They both missed this. They missed their time alone during daylight hours. They missed the nights without worry of interruption and the luxury and turn-on of being as completely loud and obnoxious during love making as they wanted to be. They missed the New York City of it all – what they originally had. What had started it all.

But tonight, Kurt was melancholy. Oh, he was thrilled Blaine was there. He had prepared an extravagant, romantic dinner that they both enjoyed. The conversation was glorious, much deeper than the most recent plot development on Spongebob or how the playground nincompoop – his name was Evan, if you must know – had been sent to the wall for kicking gravel again.

Kurt relished in the simple domesticity of preparing a load of dishes and later standing over the sink to share a slice of apple pie a la mode to avoid dirtying yet another dish. And let’s be honest, to have an excuse to stand close together and lick off droplets of ice cream and apple juice when a messy forkful happened. Which happened pretty frequently.

But, the cloud from the cook-out, the horror of his dad’s behavior, the memory of Blaine’s face – as professional and courteous and lovely as he was about it – seeped into every waking moment. Kurt needed to fix it somehow. To erase it, if at all possible. To right the wrongs that disease and illness had befallen his father.

And he could only come up with one way to do that. Blaine had stepped out to soak up some autumn air – he was such an outdoor boy – and Kurt dug out the box of flash drives he’d asked Finn to set aside for him a few weeks before. He found the one he wanted and plugged it into his propped up tablet just as Blaine came back inside.

“You should come out back with me. It’s a beautiful night.”

“I will. Can you come here, first? I want…” Kurt stopped himself and gestured for Blaine to take a seat in front of the tablet, which he did.

“What’s up?”

Kurt sat next to him, fiddling with the box, running his fingers through the drives and dangling tags identifying the contents of each. He finally looked up and smiled sadly at Blaine’s questioning gaze. “I want you to meet my dad.”

“Kurt…it’s okay, I told you.”

“No. It’s not okay. And this really isn’t going to make up for the other night, or for the fact that you’ll never, ever really know him the way I do. But, it’s a glimpse. Of him. Of who I miss. And it’s important to me that you see that.”

“Alright. Introduce me to Burt Hummel.” Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand and ran a finger across the tablet to wake it up. “What will I be watching?”

“This is his and Carole’s wedding. And bonus? You get to see my high school friends. And me being 17 and awkward. But mostly, you’ll see my dad. It’s not too long after his first cardiac incident, but he’s healthy. And happy. And…” Kurt touched the screen, starting the video. “…and my dad.”

Blaine smiled as soon as he heard the opening music. “Perfect! So, who did the wedding?”

“Me.”

Blaine looked over to Kurt and smiled. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I actually considered doing that for a living, but I think there might be some dead brides in my past if I had.”

Blaine’s smile hadn’t faded and he pointed at the screen. “Tell me who everyone is.”

So, he did. Pointing out Rachel who’d helped them get tickets to _Chicago_ on their visit to New York. And Mercedes – _the first person I came out to_ – and of course, Blaine recognized Puck. Mike and Tina brought up the rear and he told Blaine they were the only couple from high school to have made it. Two kids, living in Chicago and now, close friends to his ex, Bryce.

Before Blaine could ask for that story, his eyes lit up as the wedding party made another round up the aisle with Kurt in the lead. “Ah, there’s my man…god, you were beautiful then, too.”

“I was still trying to figure myself out. But that day? I was so fucking happy…”

“It shows…” And then Blaine gasped because the man himself made his entrance. Tears stung his eyes as he watched, touched at the visible depth of heart at this man – the man who raised the man he loved. At his joy. His effervescence. And sadly, how completely opposing it was to the man he’d just met. “…Kurt…”

But Kurt didn’t answer because he was fighting back tears himself, still watching, his eyes not blinking one second of the video away. Blaine took his hand and kissed his knuckles and kept watching. Carole made her entrance and Blaine paused the video. “Do you need to stop?”

“No…I might need to let you watch alone, though.” Kurt sniffed and snorted, wiping his tears away and smiled into Blaine’s patient eyes. “You’re crying too.”

"Yeah. I couldn’t have imagined the difference. I’m so sorry this has happened to him."

"He was…sometimes I thought he had to have super powers or something. No one could really be _that_ amazing and patient and understanding. But…he was.”

"That disease is a fucking bastard."

"Yes." Blaine waited until Kurt got himself together, brushing tears from his cheeks. “Go on…it gets super cheesy here, so I might be able to make it through.”

“You love the cheese.”

“Only with wine. Hit play.”

So, he did. And he watched and laughed at all the right parts and tried to focus on Burt and not Kurt, but ended up falling more and more in love with this man. This man who had come into his life with a simple red vest, and then promptly turned that life exquisitely upside down. They watched the rest of the video, clips of the reception, of Burt and Carole trying to remember all the steps Kurt had taught them for their first dance, the silly-yet-endearing song Finn dedicated to Kurt and the joy. The pure, unadulterated joy that was so evident in every Hudson-Hummel in the house. After it was over, they were quiet together, Kurt’s head resting on Blaine’s shoulder, their fingers twining and tangling together in the silence.

“Thank you for showing me.”

“Can I show you one more? On risk of totally humiliating myself to explain it?”

“I want to see everything in that box.”

“Oh…some day. Tomorrow? I don’t know, but for now, just this one.” Kurt dug and read tags and finally found the right drive. “This was my graduation gift from Dad. It was a play on something I did at a basketball tournament. McKinley somehow got to state finals and New Directions got to do half time. It was at the Nutter Center and…I made a total ass of myself. _SOME_ day I’ll show you my version, but for now…Burt Hummel does Beyonce.”

Unknown at the time, Burt had his whole “graduation gift” taped, including their introductory conversation ahead of time, which Kurt had totally forgotten. So, he cried again and Blaine held his hands while he watched these two amazing men talk about their feelings for each other in ways most men just.don’t.do. But then, he saw the girls come out on stage and he knew. “Single Lad-…you did Single Ladies? At the Nutter Center?”

“Focus, Blaine. You’re meeting my dad.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Down, boy. And do note the Michael Jackson glove, which made no sense except that Dad’s awesome.”

Blaine watched, his hand over his mouth, cackling by the end of it, a hint of jealousy stabbing him around the edges. Yes, the situation with Burt was horrible now. But this relationship. These two men fumbling and stumbling along had become this amazing, loving entity. He had _nothing_ like that with his dad or with his mom, but they were still what the outside world would call, a traditional family. No divorce. No death.

No life.

“Thank you, Kurt.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for…” Kurt’s words felt useless, so he pulled Blaine in for a hug, fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, soaking up the caress of his hands on his back.

“You’re a lucky, lucky man, Kurt Hummel.”

“I am. Maybe I needed to watch these to remember that.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad to grieve what’s going on…”

“I know. And I will. I do. But, I need to remember how fortunate it is that I had him at all.”

Blaine kissed him, soft and sweet, brushing a stray tear from Kurt’s cheek. “Let me see your Single Ladies.”

“You? Are a pervert. I was underage.”

“Age of consent?”

“Blaine Anderson!”

Blaine cocked an eyebrow and pouted. Actually pouted. And Kurt started to cave because hell. He hadn’t seen it in years and while it was humiliating, it had also been a blast. “Fine. Just…fine.”

And when it started Blaine began with a giggle, but within seconds, his eyes bugged out of his head. And then he became pretty unintelligible, mumbling things like _Kurt Hummel_ and _do you still have those pants?_ and _clearly you learned your hip techniques at a young age_ and finally, “The crowd loves you, Kurt.”

“Yeah, gay guy flinging his dick and ass all over the place. It’s an easy sell.”

“I’d buy it.”

“Thank you?”

“Can we watch more?”

“Tomorrow. You wanted to go outside.”

“I’ve changed my mind. Right now I’d like to press you so far into your mattress you won’t be able to find your way out.” Blaine nuzzled into Kurt’s neck and suckled at the tender skin under his ear, right where he knew Kurt could never resist.

Kurt hissed and mewled out a breath, clamoring to catch another one. “This was supposed to be a meaningful…jesus fucking christ…moment, Chief Anderson.”

“Chief Anderson appreciates his meaningful moment and has left the building.” Blaine worked his way up Kurt’s neck, tenderly kissing the corner of his mouth. “Taking his place is Blaine Anderson.” Blaine took hold of Kurt’s face, dotting kisses on his favorite spots between words. “He would like to get naked,” a kiss at the corner of his left eye, “with the sexiest,” another to his right, “most interesting man,” to the little bump on the right side of Kurt’s nose, “in all of Ohio,” and finally on his favorite freckle on his right cheek, “ if at all possible.”

Kurt’s eyelids flickered, a blush heating his cheeks. “You mean, the one and only Kurt Hummel?”

“None other than…”

***

Over the next few days, Blaine had watched all of the videos, some of them more than once. He was enamored, intrigued, genuinely blown away at Kurt’s talent. At the experiences he’d had in high school. At the boy who turned into the man that he loved more than he ever imagined he could love.

“So, do I get those back, or??”

“Yes. I, um…copied the ones I really liked.” Blaine had the decency to blush, but Kurt simply rolled his eyes at him. “I’m sorry. You’re amazing. And I know Adrian would like a few of these and…”

“…and you like gold lame pants.”

“They’re not bad.”

“I’d offer to model them for you, but I’ve grown a few inches since high school.”

Blaine dropped the mug he’d been rinsing out and scraped at the sink to dig it back out, blushing and laughing at himself. Watching teenaged Kurt had apparently turned him into a teenaged Blaine.

“In height, Blaine.” And then silence. And then an amendment. “Although…”

“Just stop. Oh my god.”

Days lead into weeks and before they knew it, it was time to unearth the sweatshirts and sweaters from the depths of closets. Burt’s baseball statistics charts were replaced with college football charts. They did seem to help, not in the frequency of Burt’s outbursts, but in the confusion and upset that could follow.

He saw a neurologist who was working with the cardiologist, but the truth of the matter was, medicine could not improve that which was already damaged. Ventricular dementia, which is the kind Burt had, killed brain cells. What was gone was gone. Keeping his heart as healthy as possible was the only possibility of keeping it from getting worse.

Kurt was in a constant state of tired. Blaine had even made it part of his routine to pop over to the Hummel’s once a week after work. In their minds, it was to be a kind and courteous boyfriend to Kurt. Which, it was, but the reality of it was to do a quick assessment so Kurt had a little more trained information to give to the doctors at their visits.

Either way, Kurt loved the relationship Blaine and his dad were forming, even if Burt had to be frequently reintroduced to him. Burt retained sports stats like it was his job and Blaine knew just the right questions to get him going. When Burt’s speech would start to slur, it was time to pack up and leave him to rest, promising another visit when Burt would get wimpery about it. It was half joyous to see the relationship forming and half heartbreaking because again…this man was only _Burt Hummel_ in name.

Blaine also insisted on regular date nights, finding overnight care for Adrian, going as far as Columbus if necessary to find fun, distracting things to do. It was for Kurt; it was for them. Blaine knew first-hand how exhausting caretaking was and he also knew how important frequent breaks were. Breaks from caretaking. Breaks from day-to-day obligations. Breaks. Blaine insisted on breaks. Kurt was grateful and always receptive.

This particular night, they were staying in Lima, hitting the local theater for an indy flick that somehow slipped through the cracks of the mainstream mindset of their community.

“You almost ready? We’re going to be late.”

“Sorry, sorry…” Kurt scurried downstairs from his loft, an unexpected phone call from New York delaying him and distracting him back into his work mindset. He’s just returned home from his latest journey there, the job obviously not completely finished. He pocketed his phone, stole a kiss and grabbed his jacket when his phone buzzed yet again. “Fuck it. They can wait until Monday.”

By the time he was buckled into Blaine’s car, his phone buzzed again. “Maybe you should see what they want so we can enjoy our evening.”

Kurt growled and dug his phone out, groaning when he saw his caller i.d. “It’s Carole…hello?”

“Kurt! Oh my god. Get over here, quick! He’s si-…he just collapsed!”


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

“What do you mean, she hasn’t called 9-1-1 yet?”

“I mean, she called me first instead of 9-1-1. Jesus Christ. How fast can you drive?”

“Buckle up.” Blaine opened his window and reached under his seat, pulling up a light and smacking it up onto the roof of his car. Before Kurt could register what he’d done, Blaine flicked a switch under his dash and a siren blasted through the air as he backed into the street. “Cagney and Lacey have nothing on me.”

“Cagney and…who?”

“Seriously, Kurt. 80’s TV marathon. We have to do this. Your television culture is sorely lacking.”

Kurt smiled faintly at Blaine lame attempt to leverage the situation, his head too busy spinning with panic and roaring with the wails of the siren as they blistered around traffic on the two-lane roads that lead to his dad’s house. “Is it…I mean, Blaine. Oh Jesus!” Kurt gasped as they whipped around someone, only to see a huge green combine peek over the hill headed directly towards them.

“I’ve got it sweetheart…”

“I know. I know, I know, but oh my god. And…you’re out of your township. Should you be doing this?”

“I’m in county; we’re good.” Blaine paused a beat, glancing at the white pallor of Kurt’s skin. “You did tell her to call 9-1-1, right? The squad should beat us there?”

“I told her. I’m not promising anything else.”

“Okay. What level CPR do you have?”

“Rescuer.”

“Can you…are you up for this because?…” Blaine slowed enough at the stop sign to make sure anyone coming would either see or hear him and made the turn, Kurt white-knuckling the arm rests on the doors. “…we might beat the squad. And it’s better with two people if that’s what we need to do…”

“Yeah, I’m good. Unless I slow you down, let me help.” Kurt took a deep breath as Blaine turned into the development, shutting off his siren to avoid alarming any neighbors. “Fuck me. No squad.”

Blaine was out of the car before Kurt was even unbuckled, flinging his trunk open for a basic first aid kit. “It’s all I have, but there’s a face mask and gloves in here anyway.” He grabbed Kurt’s hand and yanked him towards the door.

Kurt stopped before going in, squeezing his eyes tight, knowing he didn’t have time to spare, but everything was happening so fast, he had to ground himself. “Blaine…”

“We’re going to be fine, Kurt. The squad will be here any minute.”

“Why don’t I hear one? Shouldn’t I hear it by now?”

“I don’t know…but I’ve got to get in there.” Blaine opened the door and followed the sounds of Carole’s crying, finding her kneeling at Burt’s side on the bedroom floor.

“Oh! Blaine! You’re here too! Oh, thank _god_. I don’t know what happened. He’s been complaining about being tired all day. Barely ate any dinner. He went to the bathroom and I heard him fall and I just don’t ev-…”

“…how long has he been down?” Blaine was on the floor, gloved and already doing an assessment, rolling Burt to his back, opening his airway, checking for a pulse.

“Since right before I called, so? Not even 10 minutes?”

“And you called the squad after you hung up with me?” Kurt stepped in and got right to work, swallowing his fear, his anxiety, his how-is-this-happening-right-now and assembled the face mask, positioning it over his dad’s nose and mouth as Blaine began chest compressions.

“I…I didn’t. I thought maybe he’d just fainted and…can’t you hear him? He’s breathing, isn’t he?”

“WHAT!? Carole! Call 9-1-1 right now!”

She stammered and bumbled, mumbling something about Blaine being there now and Kurt cut her off again. “He’s off duty and out of his township. Call. Them. Now.”

She scurried out of the room in time for Kurt to bend down and give his father two respirations and lock eyes with Blaine who began counting his compressions again, pushing the personal out of the equation so he could care for his patient.

“Does she understand she pretty much just killed his chanc-…”

“Stop. Focus. 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30.” Blaine stopped and waited for Kurt to give two more respirations. “Tilt his head back more and give me another one.”

Kurt obeyed and stayed down close to his dad’s head, talking softly in his ear, whispering encouragement, pleas to come back, listing things they could still do, anything his mind could summon to make this reality change its direction.

“Keep talking to him and keep his head back that far…28, 29, 30.”

As Kurt gave respirations again, Burt sucked in a snorting, noisy agonal breath and then settled underneath the face mask. He’d been doing this since they got there and with every uneven, useless breath, Kurt’s hope would soar and then fade – the breaths only further proof that his dad’s heart was not beating at all. “Where the fuck is the squad?”

“It hasn’t even been 2 minutes, babe. 15, 16, 17, 18…get ready to switch.”

Kurt nodded and at Blaine’s final count, “28, 29, change,” they rotated around Burt, ignoring Carole as she came back into the room, rambling apologies and reminders that he was breathing, so really…“Shit, shit…he’s vomiting, Kurt roll him away from you.”

Kurt moved quickly, rolling his dad to his side as Blaine suctioned him as best as he could with the small bulb syringe he had. Kurt bent down to his dad’s ear, a string of swears tangling in the midst of encouraging words until all he could utter was the one word of strength he had left, locking eyes with the man who owned it. “Blaine…”

“You’re doing great. Okay, roll him back and start compressions.”

They continued their cycles, switching positions again after another 2 minutes. Eventually Kurt couldn’t take Carole’s tittering and dithering, her constantly asking what was taking so long and why _this_ and why _that_ – when really, the only question in Kurt’s mind was why she hadn’t called 9-1-1. “Carole. I really, _really_ need you to go into the living room and greet the medics.”

As if on cue, the screech of the arriving squad’s siren sliced through the house. “28, 29, change. We’re going to keep going until the AED is hooked up, okay? And then we back off and let them take over.”

Kurt nodded as he lifted from giving respirations and shifted to start compressions, realizing they’d only been doing this for about seven minutes – officially the longest seven minutes of his life. “Do you think it’s been too long?”

“I don’t know. They’re going to get meds in him, oxygen, they’ll shock him…there is a lot that can be done before and on the way to the hospital.”

Once the medics came into the room, Kurt continued compressions until one of them asked him to stop. He backed up and went to Carole, wrapping his arms around her holding on for dear life, more grateful for Blaine’s presence than he could have imagined. With Blaine there, he didn’t have to talk, didn’t have to explain, didn’t have to know anything – he could stand back, watch them work and hold on to the woman who had loved his dad so deeply that she was paralyzed with fear at the concept of being without him.

He sat her on the bed and explained that the “breathing” Burt had been doing wasn’t useful, life-giving respirations so that she’d understand that she was to always, always call 9-1-1 first. And then, he assured her that he loved her. Appreciated her, even when he didn’t understand her.

In the midst of it all, while his head was clouded over with the scene unfolding before him – his dad’s body jerking with jolts of electricity at every defibrillation, oxygen and IV tubes dangling everywhere, epinephrine and then atropine dripping into his veins, strangers pumping on his chest with more intensity than he knew was within protocol, a voice broke through.

“We have rhythm.”

Blaine’s eyes shot to the monitor and lifted a hand to Kurt who was half way to mentally planning a black-tie catered event to celebrate. When their eyes met, Blaine shook his head and Kurt took a deep breath, “It’s weak?”

“But we’re there. Carole, do you want to ride with us or them?”

“I want to stay with Burt.”

“We’ll follow you…” Blaine remained in the background as the medics packed everyone and everything up to go. He was fidgety and adrenaline charged, wanting to act, not watch, but they were doing everything right and at this moment, his role was for Kurt.

They wheeled Burt out, Carole following and Kurt stood frozen to his spot at the end of his dad’s bed. With the slam of the screen door, the room fell silent but for Kurt’s ragged breathing.

“Kurt? You need to hold on just a little bit longer, okay?”

Kurt nodded and he took Blaine’s hand in his, squeezing as if he were soaking up every ounce of strength Blaine could offer. “Thank you…thank you.”

“It’s okay. You did great. But we should probably go.”

“Let me…” Kurt scanned the room, his eyes stopping on the dresser. He grabbed a trucker cap hanging from the corner of the mirror and smacked the dust off on his thigh. “…in case he’s okay? And.” Kurt looked back at Blaine, desperate, seeking answers Blaine didn’t have. “…in case he’s okay and wakes up cranky.”

Blaine smiled sadly and slipped an arm around his waist to lead him out to his car. “Good plan. He’s going to want to see you, too.”

***

Kurt flinched and groaned, batting at the buzzing noise that had interrupted his already fitful sleep. The overhead florescent lights caused dagger-like pain and when he flinched at the whole of the moment, his body pained in protest. Sleeping in a mass-produced, horrifically upholstered, one-inch padded, wooden chair was not even a close second to the skinny pull-out bed the hospital had offered Carole.

As he blindly answered his phone, he had to quickly admit to himself that she didn’t look all that particularly cozy either. “Yeah, this is Kurt.” He stood to go to another area of the floor, where cell phones were allowed.

“Kurt? It’s Mitchell. How’s your dad?”

“Mitchell. Oh my god, word travels fast.” Seeing Blaine’s eyes snap up – he’d somehow slept in an even _less_ comfortable chair than Kurt’s – he motioned for him to follow, but Blaine declined, blowing him an air kiss instead.

“I happened to be in the office when you called. What’s the news?”

“They’re calling it a massive coronary event. I guess he’s been having silent heart attacks, so his heart is pretty much minced meat.”

“Jesus, Kurt…”

“He’s in surgery now, but…the damage is all pretty irreparable.”

“Oh my god. How’s his…how’s his mind?”

“It’s been bad. Horrible, really. We had an appointment with a neurologist in a few weeks, but I guess we’ll get one in hospital now. Of course there’s a chance he’ll have brain damage just from being out so long – beyond the dementia.”

“How long was he down? They said you had to do CPR on him?”

“Yeah, Blaine and I did…we think he was down about 15-20 minutes. Carole…well. Never mind. He was down a long time.” Kurt looked out into the courtyard, the gray day, the dying autumn landscaping mocking his mood. He was already tired of talking about it, even though he’d only told the story 3 or 4 times.

“Kurt, I’m so sorry. Do you need anything? Do you have enough support there? Should I fly out?”

“No, no…stay put, but thank you. Blaine’s here and…”

"I’m glad you have him."

"So am I…you have no idea."

“Promise to keep me posted? I know things were…I was…”

“Forget it; it seems unimportant now. But, yes. I’ll update you when I can. I really appreciate the call, Mitchell. It means a lot.”

“I just know how much he means to you…I’d hate for anything to happen.”

“Well, something’s happened. It’s been happening. Now, we just have to wait and walk whatever path is laid out.”

“You’re strong, Kurt. You’ll be okay.”

“I will be for Dad. Thanks for calling.”

Kurt leaned his head on the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows as he pocketed his phone, basking in the silence of the hidden hallway he’d found. The constant beeping monitors, the perpetual influx of doctors, nurses and aids, the rhythmic pop and hiss of his dad’s leg pumps had settled so far into his brain for the past day and a half, he began to fear they’d become a permanent white noise.

In ways, it was better than the visit to this same hospital 12 years before. At least this time his dad was awake. If awake could be defined as up and groggily mumbling for 15 minutes every 4 hours. He wasn’t in a coma this time.

He wasn’t well either. At all. They’d test, they’d poke, they’d wheel him out and he’d come back either asleep or groggy and cranky. The answers seemed to be the same every time – _your father has a very sick heart._ _We can’t fix what’s broken, but we are trying to keep it from happening again._ And when he’d look at Blaine and really look into Dr. Shivner’s eyes, he could see – there was absolutely nothing to keep it from happening again. They just had to try everything. It was their job.

Just as the thoughts of _you need to get back to Carole_ began poking him, he felt warm, welcome hands slip around his waist, soft lips pressing against his neck. “Hi.”

Blaine said nothing, simply resting his head on Kurt’s shoulder slowly swaying them together, matching the movements of dwarf trees in the courtyard below, gently bending in the breeze.

“Can we sit?”

Blaine spied a beat-up love seat tucked away even further into the hallway, sinking into the corner of it, pulling Kurt down to cuddle up with him. “That was nice of Mitchell to call.”

“It was. He’s never met Dad, but he’s sure heard enough stories over the years.”

They sat in silence, resting, refreshing, gearing up for the post-surgery update and anything else that awaited them, which was all unknown. No calendar could alert them to it. No phone app could prepare them for it. No training could educate them about it. But maybe together…

“I want to ask you something, Kurt.”

“Just so we don’t have to leave this love seat for at least eight hours.”

Blaine wiggled his bottom deeper into the cushions and pulled Kurt in closer. “I want you to pack up some clothes for at least a week – I’m sure your dad’s going to be here that long – and come stay with me.”

“Blaine…”

“I’m less than 5 minutes from the hospital; you’re about 20. I’m closer to the station so if you get a fire run you’re closer to your ERV. And I sort of live there and can be whatever you need when you need it.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine tighter to himself and sighed. “That’s completely unnecessary.”

“Probably, but it would be more convenient. And, you said yourself you sleep better with me…you need to sleep.”

“My studio is at my place. I’m going to have to start working again soon.”

“So, if you must, go back to your place to work, but I want your home base to be my house. At least as long as he’s here. I’m just afraid…” Blaine stopped himself and bit his lip, measuring his words.

“He’s going to have more arrests, isn’t he?”

Blaine nodded and gently carded his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “I don’t know, of course, but we get return calls for things like this all the time. They try to release patients too soon. They arrest again, we revive them and take them back. You need to advocate he stay here as long as possible. And it would make more sense if you were with me in the mean time.”

“It probably would be better if I was closer.”

“And if Adrian gets to be too much, tell me I was wrong and go back home. I want what’s best for you, but right now…”

“Okay. And really, the thought of Adrian being around is sort of…well, I could use one of his hugs about now.”

“He’s a good tank-filler, isn’t he?”

“He is. His yammering would be music compared to the awful sounds here.”

“Is there anything else you need from me? Anything I’m not doing?”

Kurt sat up and cupped Blaine’s face in his hands, kissing him tenderly, resting their foreheads together. “You’re perfect. You’re what I need before I know I need it.”

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“I know.” Kurt took a deep breath and stood, pulling Blaine up with him to head back to the room. “And depending on what the surgeon says, I’m going to try to do the same. Just sitting here keeping vigil isn’t doing any of us any good. When he gets out of here, we can’t all be exhausted.”

"No, we can’t." Instead of heading back to the room, Blaine lead them to the elevator. “Want to go find some food?”

“Are you asking me on a date to the exquisite 3-Michelin-starred hospital cafeteria?”

“Would you go with me if I was?”

“I don’t know. Do you put out on the first date?”

“You _know_ I do.”

“Fifth date, Blaine. That was our fifth date.”


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

“KURT! Kurt! Come quick! Kurt!”

Kurt twitched and moaned, his screeched name piercing through a very pleasant dream. Worse than nails on a chalkboard because the dream was ever so much more pleasant than a chalkboard. “Is he calling for _me_?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re enjoying that, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Blaine rolled over and kissed Kurt’s…something. Forehead probably, although he was half asleep and it was darker than the depths of a guano-filled bat cave, so. “Rumor has it, Kurt Hummel likes assholes.”

“KURT! ‘Fore I forget!”

“Why isn’t he coming in here? It’s so much easier to just scoot over and start sleeping again.”

“You know how to get him to shut up?”

“Get out of bed and see what he wants.”

“It’s worked for me. And I’d offer to go and all, but last I checked my name is not Kurt.”

“You’re still an asshole and rumors are traditionally only partially true. I only like certain assholes. It’s not looking good for you.” Kurt flipped the covers off of his body, purposely overshooting so he’d uncover Blaine as well.

“That wasn’t nice at all.”

“Hrmph. If I find vomit in there and he’s calling for me, I’m hanging you from your station’s cherry picker. By your balls.”

“Promises. Promises.”

“At city hall.”

“KURT!”

“For the love…I’m coming, Ade.” Kurt stepped far enough into Adrian’s room until he could see the fuzzy outline of his hair. “I’m here, buddy. You okay?”

“Yes! I’m…I saw her, Kurt! It’s been for _ever_! I saw her!”

“Your mom?” Kurt sat on the edge of the bed and before his ass was completely settled, Adrian had climbed onto his lap, Lizzie Monster squeezed between them. “Woah…” Kurt scooted back onto the mattress, his back against the wall. “How do you move so fast in the middle of the night?”

“Well, it took you like 10 years to get in here.”

“I was sleeping.”

“So was I. That’s how dreams work, Kurt.”

“You are a smart alec for someone who woke _me_ up from a good dream, buster. So, tell me about your mom.”

“Well, she was in a line again. Like every time. But this time when she saw me? She turned away and I got scared because…”

“…because she never talks, does she?”

“No. And…well,” Adrian flicked the spikes on Lizzie’s head, the stuffing starting to weaken at their base from all of his sucking and pulling and twisting whenever he had something important to say. “…she still didn’t this time.”

“I’m sorry, buddy. So, what did happen?”

“She turned and pointed to someone waiting across the…room…place…thing. It’s like a big blue space with fog…and flowers.”

“Who was it?”

“Well…I think…” Adrian rested his head on Kurt’s chest and swirled a finger over his arm. “What does your mom look like?”

Kurt stopped his absent minded stroking of Adrian’s back and if he really focused on his body, it was quite possible his blood stopped pumping. “Um. Have…have I shown you a picture before?”

“No. Do you have one?”

“In my wallet…come on. Let’s wake Daddy up too.”

“Then I can sleep with you?”

“Yes, then you can sleep with us.” Kurt hiked Adrian onto his hip as he stood, groaning at his weight. “I think they’re feeding you something funny at school. You’re getting too big to carry, buddy.”

“I’m still the littlest in my class.”

“That’s because everyone else has to stretch to be awesome. You already are.” When they got to Blaine’s room, Kurt whispered conspiratorially into Adrian’s ear and tossed the silly boy onto the pile of Blaine. “Incoming!!!”

Adrian landed with a thud and a giggle…and an “Oof! That wasn’t very nice either, Mr. Hummel.”

“Cover your eyes. I need the light.”

“Seriously? It’s 0300, guys.”

“This is important stuff, Dad. I think I saw Kurt’s mom.”

“What?” Blaine sat up as Kurt turned on the light, squinting and grabbing Adrian’s neck in a playful headlock.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Have I even shown _you_ a picture of her?”

“Don’t you have one in your bedroom? By the chair where you read?”

“I do. Ade, have you seen that picture before?”

“Maybe? I don’t go into your room much.”

Kurt joined them on the bed and held a small photo to his chest. “So, before I show you the picture, what did this lady look like?”

“She had dark hair.” Adrian tilted his head and squinted at Kurt. “Darker than yours Kurt, but not as dark as Daddy’s. It fell on her shoulders like pretty puddles. And, she had freckles like Mommy and a big happy smile.”

Kurt swallowed thickly and handed him the picture that he’d kept in his wallet since her death – reprinted a few times when it would fade. “Like this?”

“Oh my goodness. Yes. And she was wearing an Ohio State cap. And had thumbs up.” He showed them a thumbs up sign and flashed a huge grin.

Kurt started to talk three times and stopped, finally finding his voice, monotone and quiet. “She and dad used to watch OSU football games like it was church. They dressed for it every game day. We’d have tons of food, even if it was just the three of us. After she died, he didn’t watch another OSU football game until Finn and Carole showed up in our lives.”

“Did anything else happen, Ade?”

“Nope. Mom moved up in the line and Kurt’s mom sort of disappeared after I waved at her. And then I woke up.”

After a few quiet moments, Kurt stood, kissing both of his boys on the cheek and headed to the door, stopping before he hit the hallway. “I’m…I’m going to go downstairs and get something to drink. Maybe…” He changed direction and grabbed a sweatshirt from the closet. “…maybe sit outside.”

Adrian and Blaine listened to the stairs creak as he walked down to the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing echoing back up the stairs. “Did I make Kurt sad?”

“No, sweetheart. He’s just…super worried about his dad and…”

“…she looked happy, Daddy.”

“I know. He knows too. Let’s get you back to bed so I can go make sure he’s okay, though.”

“Can I stay here?”

“Not tonight…we’ll plan a bedroom movie night this weekend, okay?” Adrian nodded and settled into his own bed, asking no more questions, cuddling with Lizzie as his dad rubbed his back, lulling him to sleep. “I’m glad you got to see Mommy again.”

“Me too. She looks happy every time I see her.”

“She was always her happiest with you, buddy.”

***

When Blaine got downstairs, he followed his nose to the kitchen where Kurt had warmed some milk with cinnamon, leaving enough for one more mug. He grabbed a cup and finished off the pan, dripping a dollop of honey on top. He and Kurt had been together for only three months, but the quiet messages like this one – _please come sit with me_ – were a skill they’d mastered early and well. He slipped on a sweatshirt and ducked outside finding Kurt curled up under a throw, sipping at his mug of milk.

Kurt said nothing as Blaine took a seat next to him, but reached his hand out, lazily hooking their fingers together as their arms dangled between them.

After a silence only interrupted by sips of milk, hums of pleasure at the cool night air, the warmth of the drinks, Kurt finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t even believe in things like that, Blaine.”

“What’s to believe in? He dreamt what he dreamt.”

“But…how did he know what Mom looked like?”

“I don’t know, babe. I mean…looking at that picture? You’re her spitting image, so it was a fair guess?”

“But he didn’t know I look like her.”

“Kurt, does it matter if it’s real? Or reasonable?”

“It’s just freaking me out.”

“What do you think it meant?”

“If I think logically, it meant that his subconscious made an intelligent guess…can our subconscious guess?” Kurt sipped on his milk, pondering. “He guessed correctly and…saw Mom. Period.”

“And if you throw logic away?”

“My mom visited him. Which is insane.”

“Why is that so insane?”

“Ade and I haven’t talked about her since August? He’s never seen her before in his life. Dad’s slipping out from under me and suddenly Mom showed up in your son’s dream to…what? Tell me she knows he’s sick? Tell me it’s okay? Suggest I get his OSU cap instead of the Penzoil one he’s wearing? I don’t even know.”

“Does the idea that she somehow knows…that maybe she’s keeping an eye on things…does that bring you comfort?”

“Of course it does. But it’s an idea. It’s not reality.”

“Is the comfort real?”

Kurt sighed and sat up, spinning the throw around his shoulders. “Do you still dream about Maggie?”

“Sometimes. She lingers in the background of a normal dream. We exchange smiles and she disappears.”

“How do you feel when you wake up?”

“Like I have her with me. Like she’s happy with our life. Like she’s just given me a huge hug – and it lasts all day.”

“I know it’s not how I’m acting, but that’s how I feel right now. It’s just freaking me out that it came from him and not me.”

“So why fight it? Why bring logic into it?”

“Because logic is all I have right now. Statistics and blood levels. Med rates and boluses. Faceless people in white coats and I’m not allowed to _feel_ anything about it.”

“Says who?”

“Me. If I start to feel, I’m going to completely lose my shit, Blaine. And once that starts?” Kurt spun a finger over the rim of his mug, daring himself for the first time since coming outside to look at Blaine, afraid that in his eyes, he’d simply buckle. “I’m afraid it won’t stop.”

“A wise man once told me that it’s okay to fall apart.”

“So, have you?”

“With Ade?”

“Yes.”

“Yes. It was when you and I were apart. He was being particularly difficult going to bed for the 5 millionth night in a row. I was exhausted – so tired of feeling incompetent – wishing you were waiting for me in the living room and…I just crumbled. Poor kid was so confused, but before long, he was crying with me.” Blaine paused a beat as the memory came crashing back. “After we were cried out and laughed at all of our sniffling and snotting and wet shoulders and matted hair, we decided that it felt like a really good hot shower. We felt amazing.”

“You are such a wonderful father, Blaine.”

“I don’t know about that. But I do know that falling apart was probably the best thing I could have done…just like you said.”

“My time will come. But not yet. I’ve got to hold on as long as Dad does.”

“Then be grateful Adrian can take that for you in his dreams. Let him be your messenger.”

“He is a good one, isn’t he?”

“It’s simple for him. Your dad’s sick. His mom’s dead. _Your_ mom’s dead. It sucks, so he leaves this world and finds ways to deal with it somewhere else. When you think about it, it’s a fucking amazing gift.”

Kurt sat quietly, finally draining his mug of its warm milk. He got out of the chaise and curled up to Blaine in the lounger, pulling the throw over them as their bodies molded together, confessing his truest wish. “Maybe I just want her to visit me instead.”

“Maybe she knows you’re not ready yet.”

“She’s probably right.”

“She’s your mom. Good moms are always right.”

***

“Dad?”

“There’s my boy.” Burt lifted an IV-strapped hand, swollen and bruised. His eyes were sunken and he was pale and if Kurt could actually see such a thing, he would have sworn a haze encircled him. But he was awake. And, from what the nurse on duty told him when she frantically called, he was lucid, something Kurt feared he’d never experience with him again.

Carole almost squeaked with excitement when Kurt pulled up a chair and sat down, eyeing her with a million questions, trying, trying, trying to tamp down any enthusiasm he was feeling. The close to two weeks Burt had been hospitalized was a lesson on how to deal with 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. This, however, felt more like 50 steps forward.

Burt had been fighting and fighting hard. His heart would get to a point where they were comfortable enough to release him to a temporary nursing facility and then he’d come down with an infection. The infection would heal, but it would take so much from his body and heart function that he would be back to square one again, fighting for proper heart function, oxygenation. It was a never-ending cycle.

“So, you think you took a long enough nap, Dad?”

Burt smiled and squeezed Kurt’s hand, grimacing as the movement reminded him of the IV in his hand. “I’m sick of this damned thing.”

“Keeps the nurses from having to bug you every hour to take a bunch of pills.”

“I like nurses.”

“Have you met Todd? He’s hot.”

“I like _girl_ nurses, Kurt.” Burt’s voice was a little slow, slurred, but to Kurt, it was beautiful, having wondered if he’d ever hear it again. He was even open to obnoxious and inappropriate – just to hear his voice again. “Speaking of that boyfriend of yours…”

“…which we weren’t.”

“We should have been…I hear the two of you saved my life.”

“Dad…”

“Is Carole right?”

“Sort of? We…kept everything going until the medics could get there, yeah.”

“So. I’ve been thinking during my… _nap_ …I don’t ever want you to have to do what you did again. I want to sign a DNR. It’s not part of my Living Will and…”

“Okay.” Kurt looked to Carole who’s excitement had quickly deteriorated to sadness, but there was a peace about her he’d not seen before.

“Carole?”

She nodded without a word, resting her head on Burt’s chest.

“I’m sorry, Kurt.”

“No apologies, Dad. I don’t want this for you. Any of it. But it’s here and if you’re tired of fighting…”

Carole cried softly while Kurt found the pitcher and offered his dad some water, unsure of what else to do. As they sat, Carole quieted and scooted herself closer, kissing Burt’s head, whispering words of love and encouragement over and over answered only by Burt’s soft _I know, I know,_ his eyes never leaving Kurt’s.

"You want to do this now, don’t you?"

"I do."

Kurt stood and leaned down to kiss Carole’s hand. “Let me…let me go see what we need to do, okay?”

He found the head nurse and told him what his dad wanted. In no time, the wheels were in motion. Within an hour and with the swipe of a few signatures, it was now a legal requirement for both hospital caregivers and out-of-hospital caregivers – like medics and firemen and trained sons – to let his dad’s fibrillating, faltering heart take the natural course it was going to take. No CPR. No resuscitation. No life saving measures. Of any kind.

And the odd haze Kurt saw surrounding his dad when he’d first entered the room was lifted. Conversation flowed. Laughter rumbled. Joy emanated. Joy he hadn’t felt in over a year since the dementia had started to whittle away at the man who raised him, who loved him when absolutely no one else would.

“I almost forgot, Dad. Adrian drew you a picture.” He dug through is bag to retrieve the picture, secured in a sturdy folder lest Adrian would have never left the house with it. “He will expect a full report on your response, so make it good.”

Burt held the picture, looking it over carefully, taking in the two characters and the scene surrounding them. It was colorful and bright. Happy and playful. “Well, _that_ is definitely me.”

“It is…” Kurt pointed to the man in the picture. “He even got your blanket you like for your ankles.”

“He did. And who’s this critter with me?”

“That…is Lizzie.”

Burt looked up, his face flushing with emotion. “What?”

“Lizzie Monster to be exact.” Kurt explained how Lizzie came to be, how her four arms both loved and fought evil and how she had become his go-to bedtime companion, movie night companion and general comfort item since her last seam had been sewn. “She even survived the Kindergarten Barf Bug of 2023.”

“But, did _you_ survive the Kindergarten Barf Bug of 2023?”

“Barely. It hit me in New York. I don’t remember _ever_ being that sick.”

“Moms and Dads always get it worse.”

"Well, I’m not Da-…"

“I think Lizzie Monster is amazing.”

“I do too.” Kurt took the picture back and looked at it again before standing to put it up on a dry erase board across from the bed. “Is this good here?”

Burt smiled as brightly as he could. “It’s perfect. Tell him I want to hear about Lizzie’s adventures next time we meet.”

“I will. And he’ll have plenty of them to tell you. His imagination is…it’s…unbridled.”

“As it should be at his age.” Burt took Kurt’s hand when he returned and rolled his head to see him better, his hat hinging on his head like a lid. “You gonna marry this guy?”

“Oh. Dad. I don’t…I mean, we’ve only been together for a few months, but…”

“I asked your Mom after 2 months, you know?”

“You did not.”

“I did too! Tell him Carole!”

“He did. Said she was the prettiest girl he would ever see so he figured he’d better grab her for good before someone else did.”

“How did I not know this!?”

“Probably because she turned me down. She broke my heart, that Elizabeth Marie Collins.”

“Yeah, for an hour, you sad sack.”

“An hour?”

“Well, I couldn’t just let her go, could I? She was smart and beautiful and I was just a dumb mechanic. And she kissed good!!!”

Laughter filled the room as Burt told about his own rescue attempt that included flowers and milkshakes – peach, to Kurt’s delight – and ended with a chase down the driveway from Elizabeth’s dad because they talked on the porch well past her curfew.

“I finally got her back – without an engagement, of course – and next thing I know I’m running from the business end of a cocked shotgun. You never met Pa Collins, Kurt but the man didn’t _need_ a gun. The glares he shot out of those eyes?”

“Is _that_ where my glare came from?”

“YES!”

The story had been so engaging, the ease of conversation so welcome, Kurt hadn’t heard or even felt Blaine come in. But, the warmth of his hand on his shoulder broke through, a welcome interruption. “Hi…how long have you been here?”

“Long enough to hear that _some_ one is lucky he got another shot at a proposal.”

“I didn’t get shot that time either. It must have been destiny.”

Blaine quietly summoned Kurt away from the conversation, kissing him softly as they met in the small entry into the private room. “When did this happen?”

“This afternoon…I just flew over here when they called.” A traitor to his joy, a tear slipped down Kurt’s cheek. “He signed a DNR.”

Blaine’s smile faded and he cupped Kurt’s jaw in his hand, a resting place for Kurt to process the reality of that act. “It’s probably for the best.”

“I know it is. I do.”

“It still feels sort of awful though.”

“Blaine Anderson!”

Blaine and Kurt snapped out of their stolen retreat at Burt’s weak bellow. “Um…yes, sir?”

“I need to speak with you. Alone.”


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

Blaine took Carole’s seat as she and Kurt left, standing again before his ass hit the seat. “Can I…can I get you some water?”

“Yes. If there’s another glass, pour yourself some too.”

“I’m fine…” Blaine’s hands shook as he poured the ice water from the small pink pitcher, but he managed without spilling and offered Burt the glass, aiming the straw to his lips. “What can I do for you, Mr. Hummel?”

“Well, stop being a nervous ninny for one. And then come sit down over here so I can see you better. Also, can you fix my hat? I feel like Oscar the Grouch with this thing.”

“Do you just…” Blaine lifted the cap from Burt’s bald head and smiled. “…want it off?”

“That’s fine. You’ve seen bald heads before, I’m sure.”

“I have. My father sports one. Or, he should. He is convinced that wisp on top is fooling people.”

Burt smiled and took the hat from Blaine, hooking it onto one of his IV bags. “Is your beautiful hair from your mom or your dad?”

“Mom. So I’m hoping to avoid the balding thing…” Blaine rubbed at the top of his hair and grinned, biting back his nerves.

“Kurt got his mother’s hair too. I’m very thankful because he rocks just about any look, but I’m thinking bald might trip him up.”

Blaine had to laugh, remembering the reaction when Kurt found one single solitary gray hair a few weeks ago. He had to talk him down off the hair-color-for-life ledge for the entirety of the day. “I’m not thinking he’d go into it gracefully.”

“You’re thinking right about that. Vanity was one of the seven deadly I couldn’t quite teach out of him.”

“Well, he has more fun with some of the other sins now anyway.”

Burt paused a moment and looked at Blaine with an eyebrow cocked, trying as hard as possible to look affronted. Fortunately, his ornery met with Blaine’s and the tension – nerves and potentially awkward conversation – melted between them.

“I like you, Blaine.”

“I like you too, Mr. Hummel.”

“I’m not going to like you much longer if you don’t start calling me Burt. Also, no one grabbed my football charts. Since I’m sort of with it, I need you to fill those in and bring them to me.”

“I’ll take care of that this evening.” They were silent for a few moments longer than comfortable and after Blaine gave him some more water, he wiped his hands on his thighs and sat, taking Burt’s hand in his. “You wanted to talk to me, Burt?”

Burt looked down at their hands, and rubbed his bald head, smiling weakly before he began. “We have a lot in common, you and I.”

“We do.”

“I want to talk to you about my son. From one dad to another.”

“Two of my most favorite topics.”

Burt closed his eyes and squeezed Blaine’s hand. “You love him?”

“I do. Very much, sir.”

“You know, when Lizzie died…I was scared. I didn’t know how to love him like she did. I figured I’d get him fed and watered, but…the _care_ part? I was lost. And he’s complicated.”

Blaine chuckled, imagining the little boy he and Kurt had talked about – the soccer-scared, too-pretty-to-be-a-boy little boy whose Mom had just died. Complicated didn’t even begin. And then, he thought of Adrian. Less complicated, yet still…so utterly, utterly…complicated. “Sounds very familiar.”

“I thought it might. But something happened. After the initial bumbling and screwed up dinners and lousy attempts at comforting him when other kids were cruel. After that first year, there was a peace about him. And at some point – when he was in middle school – I realized what it was.”

“What was it?”

“It was Lizzie. It was like she spent that first year circling around us, seeing if we’d be okay and…she just settled inside of Kurt. I know I’m an overly proud father. But, Blaine? That man you’re in love with? My son? He has an angel inside of him. He’s an angel in a man’s body.”

Blaine had to break eye contact, focusing on the veins in Burt’s hands, protruding more than his years should allow. Aging quicker than was fair. Watching his wedding video to get to know him was sweet – but this? This was an intimacy neither he or Kurt could have imagined. “Did he ever tell you about the day we met?”

“Are you asking me if I remember something in the recent past?”

Blaine blushed and tried again. “Let me tell you about the day we met.”

“I’d love to hear the story.”

“I had just moved here. I was a wreck. Maggie had been gone…8…9 months and I was just beginning to feel again. I had no idea if I was doing the right thing by moving, but it was a done deal. I had a mortgage, a 5 year old and an entire fire department under my care. It was my fourth or fifth fire since I’d moved and it was about 105 degrees outside that day.”

“Sounds like hell. Literally.”

“When we were told there was a mother and her daughter in the house, it _was_ a literal hell. I have a team that rescues, but like an ass, I went in. I think I had to prove something?” Blaine shook his head at himself. “I had no back up to take the other side of the house when I went the wrong way. I was in there too long. Too, too long. But I found them and got them out.”

“And then it was just as hot outside as in that fire.”

“Exactly. Our medics had the mom and daughter and our other medic team wasn’t staffed…which, I might add, has since been fixed. That will _never_ happen again.”

A phlebotomist popped in and smiled at the two men, wordlessly taking Burt’s other hand, popping small viles onto and off of the cannula, drawing blood with each new colored lid. “They’re going to suck it all out of me before long.” After a few moments, she left and Burt sighed, smiling weakly at his story teller. “I’m tired of all of this, Blaine…and I’ve slept through most of it.”

“I can’t imagine how tired you are.”

“So…finish your story. You were hot and stupid.”

Blaine laughed and took a breath to continue. “I was a whole lot of both. I was fading in and out – I don’t even remember taking off my equipment…I don’t even remember sitting down. What I do remember, though?” Blaine stopped and let the memory wash over him with a teary-eyed grin. “Little did I know it would change my life forever.”

“That…would be my son.”

“It would indeed. I know it was my heat exhaustion, but it was like he came out of a fog. All I could see were his eyes. They were gray-green that day…”

“They change with what he wears, don’t they?”

“And his moods. And they get darker when he’s tired. But that day, they were clear and…breath-taking. He gave me water and I looked at him again and completely hung myself – because if he _hadn’t_ been gay, I’d have probably had a restraining order put against me.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him he was an angel…in a red vest.”

Burt loosened his grip on Blaine’s hand and smiled. It was the brightest smile he’d mustered in weeks. Months. Forever. “So, you already know.”

“I guess I do. I didn’t know then, of course. But I knew he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. And he took care of me without making me feel stupid. He was efficient and professional and yet, there was a softness about him that didn’t come from training. And when I was feeling better and he teased me about being a wimp, well…”

“…you found your man.”

“I found my man. Until the whole mess with Adrian…”

“You got him back, though.”

“I did. We did. And I think now I get how he’s so in tune with Adrian. I mean, I assumed, but…it’s not just that he’s _lost_ his mom; it’s that she’s with him, isn’t it?”

“Probably. He has a connection to Adrian you just _can’t_ have.”

“It’s like he has a rule book. I’ve been looking for the damned thing since she got sick and he’s in there maneuvering it all like he was made for it.”

“He was. Which is why I wanted to talk to you. I know you’ll take care of him, Blaine. It’s your nature. It’s his nature to let you – he loves getting pampered.”

Blaine smiled and chuckled, remembering the break in their New York trip for a manicure and pedicure. The _I-can’t-talk-now_ s because he was having a bubble bath. The post-stomach flu potato demands. And of course, the run to the storage garage on the edge of town to get boxes upon boxes of cold weather clothes because he could only fit one season’s worth in his closets at a time. “I like pampering him.”

“But, Blaine? When he shines? When he blooms? Is when he’s allowed to take care of other people. And…the world misses that about him. Part of it is his own fault – he’s so…” Burt lifted his nose up in the air, imitating and trying to come up with a word.

“Regal. Elegant. And he is those things.” Blaine’s thoughts were firing faster than his words, his feelings sparking the room as he fell deeper and deeper in love realizing he _got_ Kurt. He had the core of him – of what makes him tick. Of what makes him happy. “You’d think he was aloof, but he’s not. He’s one of the most generous, loving people I’ve ever met.”

“So you _do_ get him. You did at the very start.”

“I did. I do. I’ll never forget.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear. You remember that? And the three of you will be the happiest men on the planet.”

“He already makes me the happiest man on the planet.” Burt smacked at his dry lips and Blaine stood to offer him more water. “So, thank you.”

“Why are you thanking _me_?”

“For raising him. For me. For Adrian.”

“It’s been my greatest honor.”

***

Kurt had spent that evening poking and prodding, kissing and licking, tickling and threatening to never again make his famous most-delicious-ever-to-be-made pot roast to find out what Blaine and Burt had spoken about. But Blaine would not be moved. Even though he particularly enjoyed the kissing and licking portion of Kurt’s attempts.

The next morning, Kurt tried cajoling him with an elaborate breakfast, complete with smoked salmon omelets and a pear bellini and a hurry-before-Adrian-misses-us blow job. Blaine still wasn’t talking.

“We spoke father-to-father, Kurt. And taking my pants off isn’t going to…oh. Jesus.”

In hindsight, making the man unable to speak probably wasn’t the best way to get him to…speak. But, had been a fun failure, so all was not lost.

Later that morning, Kurt met Blaine at the station for a county-wide safety meeting, sneaking in a kiss as he sat down with the lunch Captain Harris’ mom had apologetically prepared. “Sorry about the pasta salad, guys. The dressing and I had an argument and the dressing won.”

It was still delicious. And she was adorable. Kurt had an urge to kiss her round cheeks every time he saw her, but figured he’d probably get a smack across the face if he tried. Darling and motherly, but the woman didn’t take crap from anyone including cute gay boys on C-DRT.

Blaine did a double take when Kurt started eating without a word. “No manipulations this afternoon?”

“Nope. I decided you having a secret with my dad was pretty spectacular. I’m not going to bother you anymore.” He shoveled in another bite of pasta salad and grimaced. “She’s right. The dressing won. Gag.”

Blaine leaned in close checking to see who was nearby, whispering conspiratorially – just in case. “You can still try…to manipulate.”

“Chief Anderson, you are being very unprofessional.” Kurt pushed him away and pretended to read the agenda, an ornery smirk promising more fun and games. Later.

And the meeting began, and Kurt zoned out, doodling on his paper, passing it back and forth with Blaine as they played dirty hangman, both of them clocking in training hours while learning absolutely nothing.

About 38 minutes into the 90 minute meeting, Kurt’s phone buzzed.

_Blaine [10-20-23 12:08]: What should you do if your boyfriend starts smoking?_

_Kurt [10-20-23 12:08]: Give him a 4 hour dissertation on the dangers of tobacco use and then snub the offending cancer stick on the thick of his muscular, delicious thigh._

_Blaine [10-20-23 12:09]: You’re not playing fairly._

_Kurt [10-20-23 12:09]: You’re sitting right next to me and didn’t bother to give me the rules._

_Blaine [10-20-23 12:10]: I’m going to try this again. It’s training appropriate, Kurt – safety first. What should you do if your boyfriend starts smoking?_

_Kurt [10-20-23 12:10]: I have no idea, Blaine. What should I do if my boyfriend starts smoking?_

_Blaine [10-20-23 12:11]: Slow down and use a lubricant._

_Kurt [10-20-23 12:11]: Are you happy now? You got that out? We can go back to our game? BTW, you misspelled frottage. Which is my guess for your last hangman. And my request for how to spend our evening after Adrian goes to bed._

_Blaine [10-20-23 12:12]: Intellectual and dirty. I love you._

About 79 minutes into the 90 minute meeting, Kurt’s phone buzzed again.

“Blaine, for the love…”

“It’s not me this time, babe.”

It was from Finn.

And with seven simple ‘words,’ Kurt was shoving his paper and pen into his bag and getting up, squeezing Blaine’s shoulder as he made a hasty exit.

Blaine followed, grabbing Kurt’s elbow before he made it out to the parking lot. “Kurt?” His eyes plead. _Talk to me._

Kurt flashed him his phone, the message still shining brightly on his screen.

_Finn [10-20-23 12:49]: u need 2 come 2 hospital. now._

“Go. I love you.”

***

Kurt got to the hospital in record time, although if anyone asked about the safety of his journey, he wouldn’t be able to verify anything. He flew through the lobby and skipped the elevator, jogging up four flights of stairs, slamming the heavy metal door open, wincing as it echoed through the stairwell.

Thanking the gods he didn’t believe in for the small size of the hospital, he wound his way through the few short hallways to his dad’s room, pausing only a moment before opening the door.

As he stepped through to open the curtain that had never been pulled before, he heard it. The drone of a monitor.

One note.

The note.

The unwavering tone that no one ever wants to hear.

And then, it stopped.

He gripped the hideous fabric of the curtain and yanked it open, his eyes immediately landing in Finn’s.

Finn breathed out his name, “Kurt,” and shook his head, his eyes filled to the brim with tears. Carole’s back was to the door, to Kurt, curled over the hospital bed, soft, lamenting cries sighing through the otherwise silent room.

The nurse continued to push buttons on the monitors, shutting them down with loud clicks and hisses. She looked up from her duties when she felt Kurt’s presence and a pitied breath left her body, “I’m so sorry.” She reached up and brushed her hand over Burt’s eyes, closing them and made her leave, making a point to touch Finn, Carole and Kurt on her way out.

Kurt couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. And then, he was moving. Backwards, out the door, spinning and walking, hazed and heavy, simply walking. The need gripped him like a vice and he reached for his phone, hastily typing a quick message.

As he sunk down the wall of the quiet corridor he’d spent many an hour in, he hit _send_ , numb. Lost.

Empty.

***

_Kurt [10-10-23 13:06]: I need you._

“Shit.” Blaine was out of his seat and into the station’s office like a flash and with few words spoken, he was on his way to the hospital, one of his crew driving as recklessly safe as he possibly could.

He flew into the emergency entrance and hit the service elevator to the fourth floor, emptying out into an unfamiliar hallway, almost abandoned of patients and activity. He followed signs to the cardiac step down unit where Burt had spent most of his stay, but nothing was looking familiar.

He practically skidded by a hallway, finally spying the nurse’s station and as he passed, his eye caught on a pair of Crockett & Jones that he recognized from the mat by his garage door.

“Kurt!”

Kurt was seated on the floor, his legs splayed out in front of him, staring at the floor board across from him. He didn’t flinch at his name, only blinking when Blaine got on the floor in front of him on his knees, eyes begging for answers. “Kurt?”

Kurt took in a quick breath and instead of speaking, let it out in a soft huff and looked at a new section of floor board, his eyes slowly filling, his cheeks pinking as he breathed unevenly through his parted lips. He blinked and tried again, taking in air as Blaine caught his gaze again.

“He’s gone.” Blaine’s heart sank – he knew. He knew the moment Finn’s text came through.

But right now, Kurt was almost catatonic, so he waited, touching Kurt’s leg as he began to process what he was saying.

Kurt’s voice was thin and lifeless, but he swallowed and tried again. “He’s gone.” A tear slipped down his cheek and one more time, he spoke, the reality of his words sucked out all of the air in the tiny hallway. “He’s gone. Blaine.” Another breath, another tear, more and more erratic breaths peppered with, “He’s gone, he’s gone,” until Blaine saw the cracks forming in Kurt’s façade and he moved in, running his hand up Kurt’s arm.

At that simple touch, Kurt collapsed into him, the dam breaking with wails and sobs, a pain so deep, so inexpressible by the human heart that only the most primitive of words and sounds and motions were possible. Kurt scrabbled at Blaine’s shirt, pulling him in closer, his cries only strengthening, words now completely useless, no language able to express the anguish. The loss. The finality of it all.

Blaine said nothing beyond and occasional, “I know,” but held on tight, running the previous day through his head, wondering if warning Kurt of this exact possibility might have been a better course. It happened all the time – a long illness, a sudden day of health and vitality and then – they were gone.

As if Death gave one more day to make amends, to tie up loose ends, to say goodbyes before time to whisk its next victim away.

But he hadn’t said anything, enjoying the buoyancy of Kurt’s spirit that evening, the renewed flirtatiousness, the spark that had come back to lighten his world. As Kurt’s cries quieted, he quieted his mind as well, focusing solely on the moment, wanting to be everything he could be, hoping, even praying it would be enough.

Kurt finally loosened his grip, his stuttering sobs slowing as he sat back, grabbing at tissues from a box that had magically appeared on the floor. “The tissue fairy came.”

Blaine looked down the hall in time to see a pair of white shoes turn the corner. “She did. I wonder if she’s in cahoots with the tooth fairy.”

The smallest corner of Kurt’s mouth turned up and he sat back against the wall, exhausted, spent and drenched with sweat, tears and pain. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine scolded with his eyes, words pointless. “Kurt…”

“It hurts. I feel like a knife is just stuck.” He clasped at his chest and twisted, closing his eyes and pulling at his shirt as though trying to yank the knife out himself. “I don’t even know what happened. I just took off.”

“He’d already passed?”

Kurt nodded. “I must have missed him by seconds.”

“Oh, honey. Are Carole and Finn still with him?”

“I’d assume.” Kurt leaned his head back against the wall, and sighed. “I suppose I should go back and actually acknowledge them. Him.” Tears threatened again and Kurt curled in on himself, silent cries wracking his body as Blaine sat and soothed, rocking them until he felt Kurt’s back ease again.

Blaine waited, remembering well the inability to think, the moments of inappropriately timed jokes, the complete chaos of the mind right after Maggie took her last breath. Just like Burt, death was a bit of a relief – for the dying - but for the survivors, the thought of living without. Of taking the next step, and then the next one, felt insurmountable. The last thing he had wanted was someone telling him what he should do, how he should feel.

And so he waited.

Kurt blew his nose, chuckling at the noise echoing in the hall and smiled weakly as he moved to stand. “Will you walk me down?”

Blaine reached back and turned off his radio, the sporadic hisses, pops and calls having become an almost inaudible drone between them. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“I love you.” Kurt bit back more tears, swallowing them away. “He loved…I’m so glad he got to see that I’m happy.”

“It’s all he ever wanted for you.”

Kurt held Blaine’s hand and took a deep breath before starting down the hall. “You helped make that wish come true.”

Blaine smiled, remembering his conversation with Burt not even 24 hours before, vowing to himself to be for Kurt all that Burt had asked him to be. “It’s been my greatest honor.”


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

Kurt slid off the arm of the couch onto the seat and fell back, legs splayed and arms thrown over his head. His head pounded, the sound of silence thrumming through his whole body. He was uncharacteristically graceless, pieces of him having been splintered off since he heard that tone.

That life-ending, life-changing tone.

“Okay, so now what?”

The last of the guests had just left, an unscheduled influx of friends and neighbors scrambling over to Burt’s home with offerings of casseroles and salads, sympathies and stories, doing anything to show that Kurt and Carole weren’t alone. In reality, and in spite of everyone’s best intentions, _being alone_ is all Kurt and Carole really wanted. It felt like days had passed when it had only been hours.

Blaine knelt down next to Kurt, brushing back loose hair from his brow. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.” Blaine sat back on his haunches and nodded, understanding but admittedly a little sad. “Can you come with me?” Kurt smiled sleepily at Blaine and then reality hit. “Adrian. Shit.”

“Sharon’s half an hour out.”

“What?”

“I snuck out while Puck and Sam were here. She’s on her way down to take over. She’ll stay at my place and if we want Ade, we get him. If not, she’s got it covered. All I have to worry about is work and you.”

“You’re amazing.” Kurt pulled Blaine in for a kiss. “I could use one of his hugs right now though.”

“Then let’s go pick him up from the neighbor’s.”

“Does he know?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure what he’s grasping because it was over the phone and I interrupted a very serious game of Sorry.”

“Was he winning?”

“Doesn’t he always?”

Blaine grasped Kurt’s hand and pulled him up, waiting for him to say his goodbyes to Carole and Finn, making sure everyone was cared for, going to be okay, _do you want me to stay over_? He remained quiet on the ride to his house when Kurt was, and tried to keep up with Kurt’s mind, firing on all cylinders as he ignored his grief by going through the steps of the upcoming days. Funeral arrangements, the writing of the obituary, calling work, calling Dot, calling his out of town friends – or maybe just Rachel and letting her to the phone tag – _ugh, what if someone gets missed??_ , going through pictures and videos _since the funeral homes seem to want a freaking Life and Times production anymore._

_Who do I call…who does the dinner after the funeral? Where are we going to have it?_

_Dad and Mom went to church when I was little. Do we still get a ticket in for a funeral? Do I even want a stupid church? Do I call church ladies to make the meal? I don’t know how this all works._

And finally, “I just want to take a bath. Drink a glass of wine.”

“Kurt. One step at a time.” Blaine turned into his driveway and took Kurt’s hand, desperately trying to gather his thoughts in the dark, bringing him in focus. As usual, gentle kisses to his knuckles slowly pulled him in, his exhausted eyes brightening when they landed in Blaine’s. “There you are.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Stop apologizing. Stop thinking.” Blaine pressed a kiss to the soft of Kurt’s cheek. “Right now, you’re going to go inside and wait for me to bring Ade home. And then you’re going to soak up all of his goodness because he heals. His own mother was dead and yet, he healed me.” Blaine mulled that oddity over, always worrying that he put too much pressure on the child even though it seemed to fit right into how Adrian needed it to play. “I think it’s youth.”

“And her. Inside of him.”

Blaine stopped and smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek at the memory of his conversation with Burt.

“Yes. Like another little boy who lost his mom.”

"Dad’s going to have to find somewhere else to rest. I don’t have room for his ornery."

"Oh, I don’t believe that for the world." Blaine kissed the tip of Kurt’s nose and continued with their plan. "So, after you snuggle on Ade, Nana’s going to show up and we’re going to let her take over. I’m going to drive you home and draw you a bath and bring you a glass of wine and you’re going to stay in there until you prune if you want. And until your glass is empty and the water’s cold, you’re not going to make any other decisions. Okay?”

As Blaine spoke, Kurt’s breath became ragged, his eyes filling yet again as he imagined all of the lovely things Blaine was describing. One thought, however, remained louder than all the others. “My daddy’s gone, Blaine.”

“I know, Sweetheart. And I’m so, so terribly sorry.”

One tear fell on their tangled hands and Blaine leaned in to kiss the streak it left on Kurt’s cheek. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

“I want Adrian.”

“I know. Just a few more minutes…”

***

By the time Blaine and Adrian returned, Kurt had fixed himself some tea and was curled up under a throw on the couch, reality show reruns keeping the room from utter silence.

Either Adrian had been coached or he really was an angel because he entered without a word, simply toeing off his shoes and carefully climbing up onto the couch, waiting for Kurt to put down his tea, pull back the blanket, and wrap his arms around him. They wiggled until cozy, Adrian’s head, cool from the autumn air and perfectly nuzzled in the crook of Kurt’s neck, their breathing matching as Adrian swirled his fingers in little circles on Kurt’s arms, just shy of being ticklish.

“You smell like fall.”

Adrian sat up, straddling Kurt’s middle, tracing the buttons on his shirt. “What’s fall smell like?”

“Little boys. Burning leaves. Apple Cider.” Kurt mimicked Adrian’s tracing, outlining the stripes in his sweater instead. “Wool sweaters.”

Adrian was quiet until he finished tracing the final button, finally looking up into Kurt’s eyes with a smile so grown up, it betrayed his age. “Your eyes are sad, Kurt.”

“I’m sad all over, buddy.”

Adrian nodded and started outlining Kurt’s shirt pocket. “I don’t know what words to use.”

“That’s okay. Words aren’t important right now.”

“Are hugs important?”

“The most important.”

“I do those good.” He fell on top of Kurt again, snuggling in and launching into a story about his day, his voice a melodious salve to Kurt’s heart. He talked about the city he and his school friend built out of blocks and had inhabited with dinosaurs. And about how the teacher wanted to use the sandbox underneath their “street” and they had to tear it all down. And about how one of the girls in class laughed at him when he got angry about it. And the best part of all, how the teacher made her help the boys put the blocks away because she was a big ole meanie head. “And Kurt, we had a LOT of blocks!”

“I bet you did. You always build the biggest cities.”

“I do. ‘Specially with Isaiah. And then we…oh my goodness.” He sat up and whipped his sweater off, leaving himself in only an undershirt and burnt orange corduroys. He flopped himself back down on Kurt’s chest and kept right on going with his story, never missing a beat, even when Kurt’s entire body shook with laughter.

“Hot?”

“Yes. And itchy. And hot. And…can we take the blanket off?” He sat up, tossing it aside before Kurt could answer, deciding to stay up so he could use his hands to tell the story because everyone knows, hands _make_ the story.

Just as he launched into his 23rd _And then_ , Nana arrived, taking one look at a barely clad Adrian on Kurt’s lap and shook her head. “I know with this kid, it’s best not to ask.”

“A wise choice.” Kurt popped Adrian on the bottom and sat up from his awkward reclining position. “Buddy, go get dressed for bed before you start griping about being cold.”

“But, I’m not done with my story!”

“You’re never done with your story. Put some clothes on, you streaker.”

And he did while Sharon joined Kurt on the couch scooping up his socked feet with an intimacy they shouldn’t have for how little they knew each other, but yet, it was as natural as if she had been Carole. “How are you doing, Sweetie? I’m…so horribly sorry.”

Kurt shrugged. “Thank you. And numb.”

“That’s how you get through the first few days when people are everywhere. Otherwise, you’d probably take a few of them out.”

“I can see how that could happen. I feel like I’ve lived a week in a day.”

“That’s because you have.” She rubbed his feet for a few minutes as they sat in silence, shared grief a year apart, an emotion time couldn’t alter. When Blaine came in from gathering his belongings, she pushed his feet off the couch with a tender pat. “Now, go home, let Blaine take care of you and call me if you need anything.”

“You’re already doing more than enough.”

“Someone did it for me. It’s my turn now.”

***

“Kurt! Wait! You can’t leave yet!” Adrian jumped down the last three stairs to the landing and skipped down the final two stairs with a pounce and a somersault. And then he ignored his father’s stern _Adrian James!_ , launching himself around Kurt’s legs. Kurt stumbled, still trying to slide his shoes on, scooping Adrian up by his ankles, hanging him upside down.

“Why can’t I leave yet?”

“Because. We have some…” He wiggled and squirmed and gave up, hanging upside down, nightshirt almost inside out and cartoon undies and bare belly shining for the world to see. “…some business to take care of.”

Kurt looked to Blaine and Sharon for some insight and they had none. “Business? I think you’re just dilly dallying to avoid going to bed.”

Adrian finally wriggled out of Kurt’s grasp, crawling down his body onto the floor and standing up with an irritated huff as he twisted his nightshirt back into place. “Yes. Business. We need a blanket.” He grabbed at the previously tossed throw and then at Kurt’s hand escorting him out to the back patio where, it seemed, all of the serious discussions happened in this home. Kurt had to worry about how this would work in January.

But, for now, it was a comfortably cool fall evening. He settled onto the chaise and Adrian curled up with him as they’d done not only their first night together but numerous nights since.

Blaine peeked out and Adrian grinned. “You can come too, Daddy.”

“Okay…I didn’t know if this was private business or…”

“Well, it is. But.” He pointed at the lounge, explaining the rules. “You have to be quiet though. And…you can’t stare at Kurt like you always do. We’re looking at the sky.”

And then Kurt knew. And he bit his lip, willing the tears back because while he believed his own advice to Blaine about grieving in front of Adrian, this seemed…somehow different. Adrian wasn’t grieving. He was soothing.

“Kurt? Do you have our picture memorized? In your pretty words?”

“I do. You make me say it every time I put you to bed.”

“I know; it’s like music.”

Kurt took his cue and, reaching across the chairs for Blaine’s hand, began. _Quand tu regarderas le ciel, la nuit, puisque j’habiterai dans l’une d’elles, puisque je rirai dans l’une d’elles, alors ce sera pour toi comme si riaient toutes les étoiles._

“ _Les étoiles_. The stars. What part means sky?”

“ _Le ciel_. And _night_ is-… _”_

“ _La nuit._ ”

“Right. Good memory. Now, remind me, which one is your mommy’s?” Sure, the stars had shifted with the seasons, but Adrian didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t the point. It wasn’t the point at all.

“It’s back this way…there, see? And your mommy’s is right there.”

“Yes, it is. And what do you think? See that one above them? Not quite as bright yet?”

“Is that your daddy’s?”

“I think so.”

“I think so, too. So, now they’re all friends. Laughing friends.”

Kurt took a deep breath and nuzzled his nose into Adrian’s loose curls, trying to find footing in his swirling emotions, his tears softly dampening Adrian’s hair. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told you before?”

“Yes.”

“Sit up. I want to see you.”

Adrian did and Kurt fitted the blanket around his little shoulders, smiling at Blaine’s eyes staring back at him from the face of this wise, lovely child. He clasped Adrian’s hands in his and tugged him close so their foreheads touched. “ _Je t’aime_ , Adrian.”

“ _Je t’aime_. What does that mean?”

“It means _I love you.”_

“Oh. My goodness. I love you too, Kurt. And I love your pretty words.”

They snuggled in to look at the stars for a few more moments, until Kurt popped out of his reverie and insisted that it was time for Adrian to get inside and go to bed. He left the patio without argument, leaving Blaine and Kurt in the quiet night.

Blaine stood and pulled Kurt up with him, caressing his cheek with the back of his fingers, soft touch on soft skin. “I knew it then, but I believe it now…”

“…what’s that?”

“Your dad was right.”

“About?”

Blaine shook his head and leaned in for a kiss, soft and tender as his touch. “He just was.”

***

It was the third evening of gloriously prepared bubble baths, complete with wine, fresh fluffy towels and mutual massages, when Kurt was able to see glimmers of life outside of his grief. The memorial service and internment were planned, meals arrived at Carole’s house faster than any army could eat them and through it all, Blaine was there, listening, holding his hand, being a sounding board. Especially when Finn did things like decide that The Ohio State University Fight Song would be an appropriate benedictory number for the ceremony.

“But your mom liked the Buckeyes, too! I don’t see how it’s so completely offensive, Kurt.”

“They also both loved Def Leppard, but we’re not having _Pour Some Sugar on Me_ as the final song celebrating my father’s life.”

“That could actually be sort of-…”

“Blaine. If you’re not here to help…” Blaine raised his hands in submission, but his wink to Finn didn’t go unnoticed. “Okay, fine. We can play all the OSU music and the 80’s hair band crap at the gathering afterwards. Hell, let’s put a little stage up and everyone can freaking air band it if they want. Everyone can march around and do Script Ohio to _Le Régiment_ if they’re so inclined. Dad would…actually…love that.”

“SWEET!”

“Neanderthal.”

“I am not un-evolved because I like sports and classic rock.”

“Maybe not, but your evolutionary progress has always given me pause.”

So, by this third night, even though the funeral was the next day, Kurt was feeling a little lighter. A little more capable of steering his way through a decision.

A little less self-involved.

“Did we take that cheese plate the Edelstein’s brought over?”

“We did.” Blaine turned the water off and went to fetch it when Kurt grabbed his arm to stop him. “No. I’ve got it. You enjoy the bath alone for a few minutes.”

“But your wine…”

“I’ll get it. Get naked. Get in. I think I’ve reached my limit of being pampered.”

When Kurt returned with the cheese plate, wine, and some sliced pears, Blaine was comfortably submerged in the bubbles, head thrown back, eyes closed, the occasional toe popping up through the suds for a wiggle. If Kurt’s decision making skills really had come back, they left all over again because he couldn’t decide if the man in the tub was nauseatingly adorable or heart-breakingly hot.

He settled on _I’m such a fucking lucky bastard; that man is mine_ and stripped down, sinking into the opposite side of the garden tub with a satisfied moan. “However, I don’t think I’ll ever reach my limit of bubble baths.”

“I never was much of a bath person until I met you.”

“No?”

“No. Clearly, I have been missing out.”

“Clearly.” They rested in silence, sharing some cheese, sipping their wine, cricketing their legs together under the water, contentedly losing track of time. And then, “How are _you_ holding up?”

Blaine finally lifted his head to look at Kurt. “Me? This time isn’t about me.”

“Yes. You. If memory serves, it was only five days ago we had a 6 hour picnic to honor the anniversary of Maggie’s death. This can’t be easy for you to sit and watch.”

“Just to clarify, it was only 6 hours long because we got poured on by Mother Nature and _some_ one insisted we continue the picnic indoors with games and Pixar movies that Adrian had never seen.”

“Is that a complaint?”

Blaine’s teasing smile softened into easy peacefulness. “It was one of my most favorite days since New York.”

“So, you’re deflecting. How are you holding up?”

“C’mere.” Blaine waved Kurt towards him to casually wrap his arms and legs around him, soaking in the concern in Kurt’s eyes. “I love you.”

“Deflecting.”

Blaine closed his eyes and focused, hearing Burt’s plea to him only 3 days before. _When he shines? When he blooms? Is when he’s allowed to take care of other people._ “I’m kind of nervous about tomorrow.”

“You know, if you need a moment…or longer…I want you to take it. I’ll be fine. I have my family and friends there.”

“I want to be there for you.”

“And I want you there more than anyone else. But, when I really need you? It’s now. Times like this. When everyone goes home. When the casseroles stop showing up. When the funeral flowers all die. When I hear, _Oh, that’s right. Your dad died, didn’t he?_ and I realize the world has moved on without him.”

“That is the worst. I remember looking around a fire scene about a week after Maggie died. The crew was doing their job. The family was appropriately devastated. The C-DRT team was giving aid. Everything was functioning properly and I was standing there with this gaping wound and no one noticed. I couldn’t figure out how it was so invisible to them. How _I_ was so invisible.”

“Right. That’s when I’ll need you. But tomorrow – you handle the day how you need to handle it.”

“I made it through the Eastwood funeral okay.”

“Yeah, because you were Mr. Fire Chief Man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear your job so boldly.”

“Was I an ass?”

Kurt twisted a finger in a curl at Blaine’s temple and smiled. “Impersonal. Distant. Like you were after their fire.”

“I don’t want to be that way tomorrow.”

“You won’t be. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, too.”

Blaine nodded, his hands smoothing up and down Kurt’s back. “I promise.”

Kurt pulled himself closer, his eyes darkening, his smile twisting into a smirk. “And let _me_ take care of you now.”

Blaine cocked an eyebrow and bit at the corner of his lip. “And how do you propose to do that?”

With one more scoot closer and a roll of his hips, Kurt leaned in, the bubbles shifting and popping between them, and traced Blaine’s bottom lip with his tongue. “Sit up on the edge. Let me show you.”

Blaine faked insult. “But…but, I’ll get cold.”

“Not for long.”


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

“Alright, does this pass the test now? I think you tailored this thing within an inch of its life.” Blaine stepped into the floor length mirror’s reflection, moving and cajoling his shoulders into the jacket just…right.

“Yes. It’s perfect. Doesn’t it feel great to have a suit fit like that?”

“Yeah, it really does. You’re going to spoil me.” He wiggled his bow tie one more time and adjusted his pocket square. “Is the shirt too casual?”

“My dad wore flannel shirts and trucker hats. You’re over dressed. I’m ridiculous.”

“You look stunning.”

Kurt stepped back from the mirror and smoothed his hand down the length of his jacket. “It’s too much.”

“Stop. Why did you choose that suit?”

“Because…it’s a little over the top and Dad gave so much for me to be able to express myself this way, so…” He fingered at the top buckle on the jacket and turned from their reflection to face the real breathing, soothing Blaine.

“Then it’s perfect.”

Kurt swallowed thickly and straightened Blaine’s bow tie again. “I guess I can’t put this off anymore, huh?”

“Nope.” They left Blaine’s bedroom hand in hand, Kurt’s racing heart easing when he heard the familiar, now comforting sounds of Adrian at play, telling his Nana a tale and a half.

“Kurt! Oh! Oh my goodness. You guys look so _hand_ some!”

“You say that like we’re not always handsome!” Blaine scooped his son up and smacked a wet kiss on his forehead as he slung him on his hip.

“Well. Yes. Of course, but. You look ‘ _specially_ handsome now.” Adrian picked at the pocket square in Blaine’s jacket. “Why aren’t you in your uniform, Daddy? You always wear your uniform when it’s dress up time.”

“Because I’m not the fire chief today. I’m just Blaine.”

Adrian wiggled down from his dad’s grasp and whispered something to his Nana who gave him an approving nod. “Don’t leave yet. I have to give you…wait…loan?” He looked back at Sharon who nodded again. “Yes. Loan. I have to _loan_ you something.”

He darted off to his room and before anyone could ask questions, he was back, hiding something, not so conspicuously, behind his back. “For the, um…service. Because…she helps me be brave. And I guess you have to be brave today.”

Kurt squatted down to Adrian’s eye level as Adrian pulled Lizzie Monster out from behind his back. “Just a loan, which means you’ll give it back, but.” Adrian flipped a spike on Lizzie’s head and offered a brave smile. “I’m really sad about your dad, Kurt. He was very funny.”

Kurt took Lizzie and held her close, then pulled Adrian in, holding him closer. “Thank you, buddy. I’ll take good care of her.”

“Well. She’s s’pposed to take care of _you_.”

With a sweep of exchanged kisses, they left for the funeral home, hoping to and succeeding in beating everyone there. Kurt grabbed Lizzie and steeled himself before walking in, not particularly in the mood for the staged solemn faces of the funeral directors. No matter how much he tried, they spooked him at every turn. Post traumatic reaction from his mom’s funeral, maybe, but they were macabre and morbid as far as he was concerned. Never comforting.

“You okay?”

“No. You?”

“I’m okay…you’re really going to take her in?”

Kurt absently looked down at the green monster with four arms and a spike-toothed heart on its belly and grinned, his lips thin and tense. “Yes.” He looked up at the door and sighed. “I need Mom right now. This is as close as it’s going to get.”

Blaine took his hand and led him in and without any excess creepiness, they were taken to Burt’s room where the service would be held. Kurt paused at the back of it, stunned at the volume of flower arrangements that encircled the front. At the center of the…could it be hundreds?…of planters and arrangements, sat a podium and a small table with his father’s picture and one of his favorite trucker hats sitting atop of it.

He must have fallen woozy because before Kurt realized it, he was seated and being offered a bottle of water. Blaine knelt beside Kurt and waved one of the funeral directors away, running Lizzie’s soft spikes across his wrist to hopefully snap him back into focus. Kurt took her and leaned his head on Blaine’s shoulder with a comforted moan. “She was waiting for him, wasn’t she? In Adrian’s dream.”

“Probably.”

“And he said she was happy.”

“He did.”

Kurt let his tears fall, looking up front through blurred, tear-stained vision at the flowers…at the love surrounding him, his dad, Carole. “Do you think they’d like Maggie?”

“I know they would. Personally, I’m surprised God hadn’t kicked Maggie and your mom out already. Something tells me they’re a dangerous pair.”

Kurt chuckled and took a drink, the water feeling thick in his mouth. The air was thick. His grief was thick. Everything weighed too much. “Too much ornery even for God…damn. With Dad there, He doesn’t stand a chance.”

Their chuckles silenced until Blaine asked a question all humanity asks at one time or other. “Do you believe in God, Kurt?”

Kurt shook his head solemnly. “Only when it’s convenient…apparently. You?”

“Same. The God I learned about isn’t too fond of guys like us.”

“I don’t think He’s the problem – I think it’s His followers…if he even exists at all.”

“Putting all of your faith in a fairytale seems to make it hard to grasp reality.”

“I’m so glad you’re my reality.”

“Me too. You ready for this?”

“Nope. But, it’s time.” He took Blaine’s offered hand and stood, steeling himself for the hours ahead. “They have each other again – he’ll be okay.”

***

When Kurt was eight years old and came home from his mother’s funeral, an aunt of hers, a woman he barely knew and had since passed, rambled on and on about how _glorious_ the day had been. How _lovely_ it was to have seen so many people there. To catch up. To reconnect.

“I never expected to feel so full. Don’t you feel full, Burt?”

When his dad actually agreed, Kurt made haste to his room because at age eight, well. He didn’t feel full at all. He felt more empty than he ever had before. He felt so empty that he didn’t even know the word for it. It hurt, the emptiness. Ached like the time Jason Waters had aimed a kick ball right at Kurt’s chest in gym class. And landed it. The force of the impact flattened him on the wooden floor, earned him a visit to the nurse’s station and blessed him with a grapefruit-sized bruise that lasted for two weeks, turning colors he never knew skin could turn.

 _Full_ was not an emotion he could comprehend.

But now, Kurt was 29 years old. And it had been a week since he put his father to rest. A week since he had seen some of his high school friends that he hadn’t seen since graduation – or since Santana’s epic summer goodbye party anyway. The expected were there – Sam and Puck, since they were local, Rachel snuck out of her Broadway tour for a few days, and Santana came in from New York, their friendship one of _we live in the same city, why do we wait a year to see each other?_ but always a treasured one. The surprise attendees meant the most – Mercedes flew in from California, Mike and Tina arranged sitters and came in from Chicago, and the best surprise of all, his ex, Bryce, who also brought his delightful fiancé. Those that couldn’t come, like Artie  & Quinn, sent flowers and condolences.

And then there were the few co-workers from Jacobs who made the trip, including Mitchell. Friends from his childhood, C-DRT members including Dot, of course, some of the Lima City Firemen, regulars he’d come to know over the years at his dad’s shop, friends and family on Carole’s side he never knew, but was so grateful they were there for her and Finn, all came and supported, cried and reminisced. And once the funeral was over, they simply enjoyed each other’s company, reminiscing, laughing, crying…loving.

Kurt felt beautifully surrounded.

As cheekily suggested, they played air guitar to classic 80’s rock, the highlight of which was a fabulous rendition of Walk This Way – the original thank you very much – featuring Finn on air drum, Mitchell on air bass, Bryce on air guitar and Blaine on lead - singing over the track because _you can’t just lip sync Aerosmith, Kurt_. Kurt wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed so hard in all of his life.

“Gay Aerosmith. I’ve seen it all.” Kurt decided Puck was only jealous he hadn’t grabbed the lead guitar position in time.

Yes, full. He felt full in a way that lasted for days, an unexpected lift to the suffocating sorrow that preceded it. Life was beginning to settle back into place.

The thing was, _settling back_ meant _moving forward_. And _moving forward_ meant in short order, _full_ was beginning to melt into _anxiety._

He was packed for his monthly trip to New York where he would have a meeting that would determine how much longer he’d be allowed to stay in Ohio. As much as he’d tried to ignore the reality for the past four months, his job was in New York City – and now that Burt was gone, it was time to go back.

Only now, unlike when the arrangement was made, everything was complicated.

Before leaving for the Dayton airport, Kurt made a stop into the fire station to see Blaine and maybe steal one more kiss before he had to go.

“Damn, Hummel. Lucky you’re in a fire department because baby, you’re _smok_ in’!”

“Really, Parker? Does your wife know your Kinsey scale might be hovering higher than zero?”

“Dude. Don’t even joke, man.”

“Then stop looking at my ass. Is Blaine in?”

“Up in his office…Hottie.”

Kurt flipped the Lieutenant off and jogged upstairs, smiling to himself because the man was right. He looked good. He always did when he flew. It was simply a matter of principle.

Kurt knocked and opened the door before Blaine answered, peeking in with a goofy grin.

“Don’t you look amazing?”

“Don’t I?” Kurt looked down at his ensemble and adjusted his lapel pin as he sat. “I love cold weather clothes.”

“I miss seeing your skin.”

“You get to see my skin whenever you want, Chief.”

“Mmm…that I do. Coffee?”

“Please.”

The small talk continued as Blaine poured him a cup adding the exact amount of sugar to Kurt’s liking, sitting next to him in the chair opposite his desk. They drank quietly, knocking feet dangling between their crossed legs, avoiding the huge smelly elephant in the room. Until Kurt couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“This is the first time since I started this commute that I don’t want to go.”

Blaine, apparently, wasn’t done with the silence yet. He simply nodded and sipped more of his coffee.

“Blaine, we promised we’d always talk to each other if we were unhappy. You’ve been distant and you’re scaring me.”

“I’m not unha-.” Blaine stopped himself and regrouped, putting his mug on his desk. “I’m angry.”

That was not the reaction Kurt was expecting at all. “At?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. Which is why I haven’t said anything.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking because I do not want to get on that plane if you’re angry.”

“You may have to.”

“Blaine…”

Kurt put his mug on the desk to join Blaine’s and reached out a hand to him. Only this time, for the first time ever, Blaine wouldn’t take it.

“Have I been naïve, Kurt?”

“About?”

“You going back…don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on here.”

“I do know.” Kurt huffed a sigh of sadness. Of exhaustion. Of fear and worry. “And…I think we’ve both been naïve.” Blaine nodded, matching the sole of his shoe up with the sole of Kurt’s, reaching out if only a little. “Blaine, I honestly thought Dad would be around for years and by that point, the _what’s next_ would just naturally work itself out.”

“And you really thought Jacobs would let you stay in Ohio that long?”

“With fluctuating steadiness, but yes?”

The look Blaine gave Kurt was indefinable, but if Kurt had to, he’d have gone with _judgmental._ It was unpleasant. So, Kurt pointed to himself and shrugged. “Naïve?”

Blaine’s sigh relaxed his shoulders, easing the tension another hair. “And I thought that when you said _yes_ in August – that it meant you’d stay in Ohio.”

“Blaine, I never even mentioned that. I never even implied it. Not once.”

Blaine pointed to himself and shrugged. “Naïve.”

Kurt smiled faintly and tried again for Blaine’s hand. This time, he got it. “Blaine, I _have_ to go back.”

Blaine’s bottom lip actually quivered and Kurt figured if he went ahead and threw himself off of the roof of the building, it was a fire station – _someone_ would catch him. Unless the chief forbade it in which case he might be in trouble.

“I was hoping we’d be enough to keep you here.”

“Blaine, that’s not even fair.”

"I’m not always fair when I’m angry. And confused."

"They won’t _let_ me stay. Hell, even if I left Jacobs, there’s not a big enough design company in Ohio. Even Wexner’s team is in New York now.”

“Are they going to insist you go back? Now? Even separate from us, Carole still needs you here for a while anyway.”

“This is why I don’t want to go. I’m hoping they’ll at least give me through the end of the year, but the truth is, they don’t _have_ to do anything. They could insist that this trip is my last.”

“Do you have a voice with them?”

“I think so. I’ve put out great work all year, I manage my team well even long distance, I keep the ball in the air. That should give me some leverage.”

Blaine took his coffee back and drank, sinking back into his own thoughts. “I just don’t know if I can do long distance, Kurt.”

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here I am trying to figure out how to not have a life without you in it and you’re already kissing it goodbye? Because you don’t want to work at it?”

"No. That’s not…no. I just don’t see how. I don’t see…I really didn’t think you’d go back. I really didn’t think at all."

They stared at each other, trying to speak without words, until the room became thick with an impenetrable impasse.

Blaine finally broke, getting up to rinse out his mug. “Well, no decisions can be made until we know what we’re dealing with, so I gue-.”

_County Dispatch to Lima City Fire. Lima City Fire. We have a residential structure fire at 423 Bexter St. Repeat, residential structure fire at 423 Bexter St. Call time 10:42._

They shared sad smiles and Blaine grabbed his keys from his desk, stopping to brush his knuckles down Kurt’s cheek before he left. “I know this. I love you. That _never_ wavers.”

Kurt kissed his knuckles and leaned in to softly kiss his lips. “I love you. Now, go be a hero.”

Blaine headed into the hall to run downstairs to suit up, calling back before hitting the first step. “Let me know when you get in.”

Kurt stepped out to the bridge, and Blaine was gone, lost in the flurry of activity on the garage floor, men and their token woman, suiting up for whatever awaited them. They slipped into boots prepared with turnout trousers draped around them, hiked up suspenders, grabbed jackets and helmets and jumped into their assigned vehicles, sirens blaring – all within the blink of an eye.

He caught Blaine’s eye in the cab of Engine 1 and blew him a kiss, grinning when Blaine caught it outside of his open window before the vehicles started backing out of the garage.

His life simply would not work without Blaine in it. Without their quiet love, their chaotic life, their magnetic need. Somewhere, a solution awaited. It had to.

***

_Kurt [11-03-23 11:38]: Four months._

_Blaine [11-03-23 11:52]: This isn’t a pun set-up, is it?_

_Kurt [11-03-23 11:54]: Fine. What do gay termites eat?_

_Blaine [11-03-23 11:56]: If they’re smart, they’ll eat a fully balanced diet with wood…wait. Wood’s in the answer, isn’t it?_

_Kurt [11-03-23 11:59]: Yes. Wood peckers. You’re deflecting._

_Blaine [11-03-23 12:00]: That doesn’t even make sense. Does that mean they eat each other? Sexually or cannibalistically? And, puns get priority via text. You know the rules, Kurt. So? Not deflecting._

_Kurt [11-03-23 12:02]: Well, if they’re gay, all they think about is sex and since they’re such awful creatures I’m sure they’re also cannibals. You know how The Gays are, Blaine._

_Blaine [11-03-23 12:04]: Who knew the insect world was filled with such hatred? They just want to eat wood. Can’t they be who they are?_

_Kurt [11-03-23 12:07]: Do I need to call you? You sound like you’re having a meltdown._

_Kurt [11-03-23 12:08]: Allow me to start over. Four months._

_Blaine [11-03-23 12:09]: I just am concerned for these poor gay termites. I mean, I don’t see how their dietary needs change just because they are gay._

_Blaine [11-03-23 12:10]: What does four months mean, exactly?_

_Kurt [11-03-23 12:12]: It means that on March 4, 2024 I need to be in New York City full time or have another job._

_Blaine [11-03-23 12:14]: It was worded as an ultimatum? Kurt…_

_Kurt [11-03-23 12:16]: No, bad wording. I’m sorry. They were wonderful. And really, four months is two more than I expected._

_Blaine [11-03-23 12:18]: But, we have the holidays._

_Kurt [11-03-23 12:21]: Yes. And plenty of time beyond._

_Blaine [11-03-23 12:25]: Can I call you?_

_Kurt [11-03-23 12:26]: Can I fake having the stomach flu so you’ll fly out and hold me?_

_Blaine [11-03-23 12:28]: You’ll be home tomorrow._

Kurt stared at the last text and dialed. “Home shouldn’t be such a complicated concept.”

“No. It shouldn’t be.”

“I’m home with you.”

“You’re home in New York.”

“I can’t do this over the phone.”

“So, tell me about the rest of your trip and we’ll _do this_ tomorrow. Has your weather been as shitty as ours?”

“Shittier. I don’t want to talk about the weather. I went to lunch with Mitchell yesterday. It was like it was when we first met.”

“Aerosmith will do that to a friendship.”

“I don’t want to talk about Mitchell either. I probably shouldn’t have called.”

“What do you need from me, Kurt?”

“Answers. Promises. Time travel. Love…I need you to love me. I need to love you. Today. In four months.”

“We’ve got the love covered.”

“In four months?”

Blaine huffed softly and fell silent. And Kurt waited. Until he couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve got to go. I shouldn’t have called.”

He disconnected his phone and shoved it in his pocket, heading into his next meeting. Thirty minutes ago, _four months_ felt like an eternity. A gift. Now? It felt like it was a ticking time bomb. A curse just waiting to be executed.


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

The problem with someone hanging up on you, Blaine decided, is that you’re left with a decision – to call back or to let it go. And often, regardless of how you answer the question for yourself, it ends up being the wrong answer for the one who did the hanging up.

And, despite his bad puns and flower deliveries from their initial split, at the heart of it all, Blaine was not a chaser. No meant no meant no.

And Kurt clearly said _no._

However, he also knew Kurt well enough that he didn’t mean _no_ for good anyway – just for that conversation. For the feelings that were chewing them both up like the last scraps of a dog’s rawhide bone. _Gnaw, gnaw, bite, smack, swallow, choke._ Nothing was getting accomplished, so someone had to take it away. End it.

So that’s where Blaine left it. He didn’t call Kurt back. He didn’t text anything, including stupid puns. Instead, he made plans. And those plans brought him to where he was now. Dayton International Airport, just outside of security waiting for Delta flight 3876 to disembark.

He waited there holding a dozen orange roses. An orange rose started this whole thing – after the red vest, which would be silly in a bouquet of twelve. So. Orange roses. A dozen because that’s what you do when you want to make a point. And he had a point to make.

He held the flowers to his nose and breathed them in as he watched families from other flights reunite. Some travelers had obviously been gone awhile while others were more seasoned, having either no one to greet them or a swift, non-emotional kiss from a weary partner. His favorite, of course, were the children anxiously awaiting the arrival of a parent. The running leaps, the sloppy kisses, the balloon bouquets and of course the requisite _whadja buy me_ requests never ceased to make Blaine grin, missing the tug on his shirt tail from his honey-eyed boy.

But today was set aside for the grown-ups. Lieutenant Parker’s wife offered to take Adrian for a long-promised weekend over-night. Adrian was ecstatic and Blaine was…getting antsy. Kurt’s flight had landed fifteen minutes ago and this was a tiny airport.

_Please tell me you didn’t stay in New York._

As the last family made their way to baggage claim, Blaine peeked down the gateway one more time and there he was. Impeccably dressed, impeccably coiffed, impeccably stunning, reaching around his carry-on for what Blaine assumed was his phone.

With a ridiculous smile plastered over his face, Blaine watched him impatiently tug his scarf from his neck and hit a pre-dialed number, pressing the phone to his ear.

And Blaine’s phone buzzed in his back pocket.

He ignored it and bit his lip as Kurt’s face twisted in confusion and then, gloriously, spread into a huge grin when he spotted him, jumping a little and breaking out into a jog to get to the end of the gateway.

“Blaine!”

Kurt launched himself into Blaine’s arms, lifting his legs as they spun. To an onlooker, they’d been apart for weeks and weeks and really, with the mass-togetherness from Burt’s illness and death, the _what comes next_ tension, and then the awful end of their communications from New York, it might as well have been weeks and weeks.

Blaine set Kurt on his feet, mashing their lips in wet, wordy kisses, apologies, _I love you_ s and _I missed you_ s littering in between. And then finally, after Kurt tried to explain in between kisses, his words interrupted by Blaine’s kisses, by his own clutching to be held, he summed it up in two short sentences, his eyes huge and clear, exposing his very soul.

“I’m just so scared. I can’t lose you.”

“I know. So am I.” They stayed there for a long moment, searching for answers that wouldn’t be found in an airport and finally Blaine took Kurt’s bag for him in exchange for the roses which Kurt began to sniff obsessively, as if maybe the answers were hidden between the apricot-colored petals.

And then Kurt peeked over the top of them, his brow furrowed and in worry. “Are you really? Scared?” At Blaine incredulous look, he scurried to continue. “I mean, you just seem so resigned.”

“Resigned to what?”

“The end.”

Blaine pulled the bouquet away from Kurt’s face and put it down on his bag, clutching Kurt’s lapel as he drew him in for a fierce kiss, hard and unfaltering, his eyes dark and driving home the certainty of it. “No. I’m not resigned. At all.”

“You’ve just been so distant and quiet and I’m still so wrapped up in Dad and I don’t know how to think without him here and I still have to work and figure out what everyone fucking wants from me and I should probably just shut up.” A breath and then, “God, I’m so fucking tired.”

“Honey, stop.” Kurt continues to babble – _see? Even you want me to stop but I don’t know which way is up or if maybe down is better and I’m so –_ and Blaine quiets him with a kiss, repeated again and again until Kurt softens against him, his words melting into silence. “Kurt. Do you trust me?”

“With my life. Which is why I’m so scared. I can’t do this with…”

Blaine put a finger to Kurt’s lips smiling softly as Kurt smiled back, sweet and pleading. “…then here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to walk you to your car and you’re going to get in and wait for me to pull around in mine. Then, you’re going to follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

Blaine huffed in impatience and picked up Kurt’s bag, handing him the bouquet of roses again. He started walking to the parking lot, moving ahead regardless of Kurt’s decision to follow him.

“Trust you. Right.”

***

“Kurt, if you ring this phone one more time, I’m taking us all the way home.”

“There is absolutely nothing in Sidney Ohio, Blaine.”

“That _you_ know of.”

“Is this a Serpent Mound type field trip because so help me god…”

“I thought you said you trusted me.”

“I do, but you’re a dad and we’ve already decided that dads are hair-brained, and….”

Blaine fell silent as Kurt rambled, more for checking his directions than for ignoring Kurt’s whining. Because while he was acting irritated, it all was quite comical. In the 45 minute drive, Kurt had called five times. Or maybe six. He stopped counting after three. “Okay, I need to concentrate so I’m hanging up.”

“That building on the left is pretty.”

“It’s the courthouse. Hanging up…”

After a few more turns, they ended up following a street that dumped right to the front of their destination. Blaine lead Kurt into the deteriorating driveway and now wished, more than any other moment on the journey from the airport, that Kurt was in the car with him. His tires crackled over the stone drive, the car wobbling over the uneven surface almost sighing as it came to a stop. By the time he was unbuckled, Kurt was out of his car, gazing, gaping, gawking, bouncing on his toes like a child on Christmas morning.

“Blaine! This is beautiful! Who knew? What’s the name again? I was too busy ogling to notice.”

“Great Stone Castle. We only have tonight, but…” He slipped an arm around Kurt’s waist and unwrapped his scarf, nuzzling into his neck for a kiss. “…do you approve?”

“I do! Oh my god, this is…wait. I’m out of clothes.”

“I brought some for you. Come on. Let’s check in.”

***

They finally got to their room, no thanks to the well-meaning clerk who was having difficulty wrapping his head around the idea that it was more than okay that, as two men, the three rooms in the bed and breakfast had only one bed and that their reservation was for just one room. Two men. One bed.

To help bring the point home, Blaine had to plant a big wet one on Kurt’s lips. Kurt, whose initial excitement was turning into huffy irritation right before Blaine’s eyes. He had clearly seen enough of the well-appointed and overly decorated common room and reception area. It was time to go.

The room _was_ lovely - for a 1980’s style “Victorian” room that was simply trying too hard. But the best part, what would be Kurt’s favorite part, was that it was a tower room and the three large windows that formed the interior curve of the tower housed the bed, both cocooning it with the curvature of architecture, and exposing it to the wooded area surrounding the facility.

Kurt strolled in and dumped his bags by the door walking straight to the windows, running his fingers along the fabric of the duvet and carved wood headboard of the bed. “You know, I tend to forget that Ohio has some beautiful places to visit too.”

“It’s easy to do.” Blaine walked up behind Kurt breathing him in before helping him slip off his overcoat and tossing it over the back of the desk chair with his. “We have a few hours before they serve dinner.”

Kurt turned from the window and leaned into Blaine’s hand as he caressed his cheek, kissing the pad of this thumb when he passed it across his lips. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I love you. Because I hate how the last week has felt and I thought maybe, away from all of our stressors, we could lay everything out. Stop questioning where our hearts are in the midst of grief, of geography, of…life.”

“My heart is always with you. There is no question.”

“You’ve questioned mine, Kurt. And I don’t ever want you to question how desperately I love you.” Blaine hooked his fingers around Kurt’s tie and pulled him in for a kiss, sure and sweet, his tongue tracing the path of his thumb moments before.

“Make love to me.”

Blaine smiled and loosened Kurt’s tie, making quick work of his buttons, kissing skin as it peeked out from the confines of his shirt. “You stole my line.”

Kurt chuckled, then hissed as Blaine laved at his nipple through his undershirt, wetting the fabric as Kurt fumbled with his sleeve buttons, finally freeing himself of both. “We’ll work on it together.”

And they did, a perfectly orchestrated dance that only they knew. Only they shared. After weeks of comfort sex, of make-me-feel-so-I’m-not-numb sex, of make-me-numb-so-I-don’t-feel sex, of sex for all sorts of reasons separate from Kurt and Blaine, they returned to the start where it was just the two of them. There was no purpose but to love. No problems being solved, no ghosts being exorcised, nothing to prove, because no one mattered but them.

As Kurt slid into Blaine, tight and hot, two becoming one in body, in voice, in thought and heart, Blaine held onto Kurt as though he might float away. As though their months together might really be a figment of his imagination. As though surely, no one this good, this perfectly imperfect, this beautiful could be his.

But he was. It was Blaine’s name Kurt mumbled and called out in moments of bliss and ecstasy. It was Blaine’s body Kurt kissed and surrounded, caressed and sunk into. It was Blaine’s bed that was warm with the scents of lavender and cinnamon massage oil or Kurt’s distinct cologne. It was his son that healed more every day because of the love Kurt showed him, of the bond only the two of them shared. This gorgeous man, now lowering from above him to nuzzle in his neck and gently suck and press at the skin there – was his.

And that was a fact he never wanted to lose sight of. Never wanted to toss aside because of geography or logistics, common sense or finances. He didn’t have answers for their future, but he had Kurt for their present. And surely, that was enough to let everything else fall into place.

***

They cuddled under the sheets, napping and mapping each other’s bodies in kisses and touches, reacquainting themselves with the nuances of touch that made the other quiver. Like the fact that Kurt’s right nipple was much more sensitive than his left and that the left side of his neck was much more sensitive than his right. Or that Blaine’s nipples really didn’t respond to fingers at all, but put a wet tongue on them and you found a bee-line to his cock. And that sucking on his right big toe had the exact same effect. Not his left. Just his right. “You might as well be sucking my dick.”

“I could do that too.”

“Not at the same time. You’re not _that_ good.”

“You’re just not that flexible.” And then Kurt would nibble his way up Blaine’s leg and treat his ass, his balls, his cock with such luxurious care that Blaine would forget he even had toes.

It was after all of those things that Blaine found himself staring at Kurt, tracing the lines of his face, memorizing each individual strand of hair that framed that face, as Kurt drifted in and out of light sleep. When his lashes flickered open, Kurt greeted him with a sleepy smile and a blush. “You’re getting vampire creepy on me, Blaine.”

“I thought you were Team Jacob.”

“My point exactly.”

“I just have a hard time believing you’re real sometimes.”

“And now you’re just being ridiculous.” Kurt moved to sit up, but Blaine pulled him back down.

“No. Stay. I like being tangled together.”

Kurt snuggled back in and kissed the tip of Blaine’s nose. “You’re all mushy gooshy today.”

“I’m trying to make up for making you feel like I wasn’t in this anymore. And trying to figure out how I did it. I clearly have no idea what I’m doing. Still.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“But it does. I don’t want to do that again. I want…” Blaine stopped and flopped on his back, a speech bubbling up inside of him. One worthy of a ceiling stare because he wasn’t sure he’d get it all out otherwise. “Kurt, no one in my life has what we have. My parents tolerate each other at best; my grandparents hate each other at worst. Coop avoids relationships because he’s seen their nightmares and Maggie – well, she never found it. I’ve _never_ seen this. Not up close anyway and I’ve surely never felt it. I didn’t even know I was missing it until you took my pulse and brought me to this magical place of _you_ and now I’m not sure if I can breathe without it. And it scares the shit out of me. So, I’m probably going to fuck up again.”

“Blaine…”

“I mean it, Kurt. I like clear, concise pictures of what’s expected of me. Of what to do to make life work. And you’ve come in and blended all the colors and I see how beautiful life is like that except now that it’s shaded and hued, when it’s time to figure things out, I feel like I’m drowning. I don’t even know what I did or didn’t do that made you feel like I was…what’d you say? Resigned. Resigned to the end.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“Kurt, I don’t even _see_ an end. I just…I know there’s a road on the other side? I just don’t know which way it goes.”

“And I’ve been passive aggressive about what I want to hear, so. No wonder you’re…I’m sorry.”

“What do you need to hear from me?”

“The truth. What you want. What you need. How I can make you happy. How I can keep you in my life. Promises that we’ll never _have_ to figure out how to breathe without each other.” He took Blaine’s hand from its flailing and emoting and held it close to his chest. “You know – nothing big.”

Blaine turned to face Kurt, tracing the outline of his face as though it was a rare painting. “I don’t know the words for all of those things. I know them to be true. I just don’t know how to tell you. All I see right now are facts and figures. Dollar signs and statistics – just like when your dad was sick and that’s all you could deal with. I can’t get beyond it. It’s the only way I know how to solve shit. I fact it until it submits.”

“Are you a closet accountant because I dated an accountant once and he was the most uninteresting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

“How was he in bed?”

“Same.”

“Does that answer your question?”

“It does. Thank you. Not an accountant.”

“Glad to clear that up.”

Kurt reached up to Blaine’s face and kissed him, soft and slow, pulling back to melt into his eyes, brushing his thumb against the soft curve of his cheek. “Those facts and figures are important. They are, but they’re just details. The crap you work out later on. And if you’re worrying about the details, you’ve already figured out the answer.”

“I have?”

“You’re just fighting it.”

“You should know, Mr. I’m Going to Make Him Suffer for Weeks While I Figure Things Out.”

Instead of teasing back Kurt simply smiled, pulling them both up to sit, the flowery sheets falling precariously around their naked bodies. “Blaine. It’s really very simple.”

"Yeah?"

"Come with me to New York.“

Blaine chuffed and his eyes darted, chasing the statistics and numbers and mortgages and upheavals as they taunted his every argument. So Kurt went on.

“You know what _facts_ I learned on this trip?”

“What?”

“New York City? They have fires there. And you know what else? They have _firemen_ that put those fires out.”

“Kurt.”

“And do you know what else they have in New York City? Schools. Some of them are very good. I’d bet that many of them would take a smart kid like Adrian and teach him math and reading and history and art.”

Blaine didn’t even try to say anything because it was clear Kurt was in the middle of a point – a point that wasn’t going to be stopped until it came to its natural conclusion.

“And, they have parks. Brooklyn has some beautiful parks if you don’t think Manhattan has enough. They have museums and theaters and dance studios. In fact, I might go out on a limb and say that there’s more for Adrian in New York City than there is in Lima Ohio. Or Findley. Or Columbus. Put together.

“Look, I know the world will say it’s too soon. And I know it’s insane. And I know that Nana isn’t in New York and she’s a huge part of your lives and I know that you just started a mortgage and Adrian just lost his mom and then his life in Findley and I know I’m asking the entire world of you, but Blaine. You. You and Adrian. You are my entire world now. I have my work, which is my blood, but you…are my heartbeat.” He paused to take a breath – the slightest of breaths because he didn’t have to reconsider one word. “Come. With. Me.”

Blaine leaned back against the headboard and wiped his hands down his face, daring to look at Kurt, who met him with such trusting, expectant eyes he wanted to scream. “Please don’t take my silence as a rejection. I’m not closing any doors.”

“I know you’re not. And I’m sorry I went that direction before. It wasn’t fair.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. And I don’t expect an answer right now. We have four months. We have time. I don’t even have to have an apartment figured out once March rolls around – they said I could stay at Kenmare for a few more months after that. So, there’s no rush. We can…we talked about taking Adrian in December. Let’s do that. We can call it a trial or we can just call it a holiday. Because either way, Christmas in New York is glorious.”

“He’d love it.”

“And we’ll come back in time for Santa to come to his house too. Can we just…can we just _be_ and enjoy and soak up these four months while we’re figuring it all out?”

“Yes. You might need to remind me.”

“It will be nice to be distracted over the holidays. This is the first time _Christmas_ has crossed my mind that I haven’t started to cry.”

“It’ll be a hard one. Last year was miserable for us.”

“We’ll get through it together.”

“You’d be happy in Brooklyn?”

“I’ve done my time in the city. I’d rather be in Brooklyn with you and Ade than in the city alone.”

“What about Queens?”

“It’s possible. Just…not Jersey. I have my limits.”

“Aw, now. Joisey is just mis-un-duh-stood, babe.”

“I will not live in Jersey.”

“What’d Jersey ever do to you?”

“Snookie. I dressed up as Snookie for Halloween my senior year. I’m still suffering from PTSD. I will not live in Jersey.”

“Do you have pictures? Wait? Did you have the tits?”

“Did I have the…seriously Blaine? And no pictures. Not that you’ll ever see anyway.”

“It can’t be worse than Riff Raff.”

“It is-…hey! I was a hot Riff Raff!!!”


	31. Chapter Thirty

“Kurt?” Blaine shifted sleepily, reaching across the bed only to find cool sheets and no Kurt.

“I’m back here. Go back to sleep, honey.”

Blaine, ever obedient, sat up and smiled, seeing Kurt standing at the tower window behind their bed, wrapped up in the duvet, the first glimmers of sunrise shining in and highlighting his hair like a halo. “Can’t you sleep?”

“I slept. Just had a dream. I wanted to rest in it a bit more before losing it again.”

“Tell me?”

“Is it too early to order coffee?” Kurt slipped back into bed, snuggling into Blaine’s open arms with a contented sigh. “Although now that I’m back here, maybe coffee’s a bad idea.”

“Yes. It means waking up. Was it a good dream?”

“I saw Mom and Dad.”

“Oh, Kurt.”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen them together since…” Kurt’s words trailed away – obvious in their truth as he heard himself say them. “And…Maggie was there.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“They were having a picnic. Mom and Dad had their backs to me. She had that damned OSU hat on Adrian mentioned, Blaine.”

“Did they see you?”

“Maggie did. She waved. Smiled. She is stunning.”

“Yes. She is. Was. Is. Hell. She keeps showing up in everyone’s dreams, I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

“She waved and I started to approach, but she told me no, just like my dreams as a kid – like Adrian’s now. They never saw me. But, they were holding hands and Mom took dad’s hat off and kissed the top of…” Kurt choked on his words, tears breaking through as he folded into Blaine’s arms, into the bed, into the sheets, physical pain coursing through his body all over again.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Blaine held on until Kurt’s sobs stilled, a quick rush of emotion compared to the long, draining spells he’d had in weeks past.

Kurt sniffed and snorted his way out of his breakdown, apologizing until finally he could speak semi-normally again, sitting up to look over the top of the ornate headboard in their room at the sun, slowly rising in the bleak autumn sky.

“It hurts less over time, right?”

“I’ve found that it hurts the same, but less frequently.”

“It’s still like a knife. A sword. Serrated.”

“I guess the serrations smooth down over time. Not quite as rough.”

“That’s good. This feels so different from when I lost Mom.”

“You’re not an eight-year-old anymore.” Blaine thumbed off the wet streaks of tears from Kurt’s cheeks, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Anything else happen in the dream?”

“Yes. She kissed the top of his head and he giggled. He _giggled_ , Blaine. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve heard that? A real, true from the tippy top of his bald head giggle?”

“How lucky you got to hear it again.”

“I wonder if she still smells the same.”

“Well, if she’s been hanging around Maggie too long, she smells like patchouli.”

Kurt laughed and wondered aloud, “I’m thinking Dad wouldn’t stand for that. Maybe he brought in some motor oil to balance it all out.”

“Mmmm, then they probably wouldn’t be picnicking together. She was always burning something. Candles, wax…what’d she call them? Wax…tarts? Wax tarts, whatever the hell they were. Incense, of course and then massage oils when she was hurting. Sometimes the incense would make her sick, but there was always something making the place smell…like Maggie.”

Kurt smiled, remembering how healthy and vibrant Maggie was in his dream. “She’s not sick anymore, Blaine.”

“No. Your dad’s not either.”

“I just wish I could have seen Mom’s face. Do you age…wherever they are?”

Blaine pulled Kurt down into the bed with him, cocooning them into the covers, burrowing into the pillows. “I should hope not. Maggie got her hair back, your dad got his giggle back…”

“Mom got the love of her life back. It all sort of makes death not such a scary thing.”

“True.” Blaine pulled Kurt even closer, tucking his head into his neck, their legs sliding together until they found just the right position. “But, I’m not ready yet. Life is just entirely too good right now.”

***

_Lima City Medic 2 to County Dispatch. Heading back to the station. Time out: 13:28_

_County Dispatch copy._

_Anderson to Medic 2. Can you guys grab some chips on the way back in?_

_Medic 2 to Anderson. Copy. What brand, sir?_

_Parker’s asking for them, so it better be Conn’s or he’ll birth a small farm animal._

_Medic 2 to Anderson. Copy. Conn’s potato chips for Captain Parker. Out._

Kurt sat alone in the C-DRT offices and cackled, hoping no one would come in lest they think he’d lost his fool head. Idiots. The men at Lima City fire were a bunch of adorable idiots.

_Kurt [12-15-23 13:30]: Tell Captain Parker his taste in chips sucks._

_Blaine [12:15-23 1:35]: What? Did you…oh shit. That went to county?_

_Kurt [12-15-23 13:36]: No, I’m just telepathic._

_Blaine [12-15-23 1:39]: Fucking hell. I’m surprised Sheriff’s office hasn’t called to torment me already._

_Kurt [12-15-23 13:40]: It’s soon yet. Give him time. And really, do you gentlemen_ need _chips?_

_Blaine [12-15-23 1:41]: We do. A chip-less firehouse is an inefficient firehouse._

_Kurt [12-15-23 13:42]: Do you have enough dip?_

Kurt snickered again after a long silence, when he heard:

_Anderson to Medic 2. Don’t forget the French Onion dip. Out._

_Medic 2 to Anderson. Copy that._

_Kurt [12-15-23 13:49]: You know that went on county again, right?_

_Blaine [12-15-23 1:50]: That was just for you, babe._

_Kurt [12-15-23 13:52]: And you actually ran down and checked to see if you needed it, didn’t you?_

_Blaine [12-15-23 1:53]: Yes. Shut up. You’re coming over to help me pack Adrian, right?_

_Kurt [12:15-23 13:53]: Yes. Did he sleep better last night?_

_Blaine [12-15-23 1:54]: He didn’t come bug me anyway. I hope he doesn’t end up disappointed. He’s worked himself into a tizzy about the Umpire State Building and Lion King and the Cinderella carriages and the lights and…_

_Kurt [12-15-23 13:55]: Yeah, we need to kill the Empire State Building romance. The line will be hours long this time of year. Unless you’re in the mood to take him, it’s not happening._

_Blaine [12-15-23 1:56]: It’s not happening._

Emergency signals broke through the droning static of the dispatch radio, pausing their texting plan-making.

_County Dispatch to Lima City Fire. Lima City Fire. We have a residential structure fire at 1572 N. Elizabeth St. Repeat, residential structure fire at 1572 N. Elizabeth St. Call time 13:57._

_Blaine [12-15-23 1:57]: See you there?_

_Kurt [12-15-23 13:58]: Sounds like it. Be careful. I love you._

Kurt was dispatched about an hour later and after meeting Mandy, his volunteer, they headed to the fire, already looking pretty well under control. Kurt notified dispatch they had arrived and argued with the back stairs of the truck, jumping over a few puddles and hoses to get to the chief.

His chief.

His Blaine.

He decided about three fires ago that he really never wanted to get used to the giddy feeling that washed through him whenever he’d pull up to a fire and Blaine would be standing there in his turnout and white helmet, looking so official and heroic and yet underneath it all he was just…Blaine.

The man who filled all the empty spaces in his life.

“Hey. Wha’do we have?”

“Hey, love. Space heater, dry Christmas tree. Typical stuff. Family of four. Mom and Dad are sitting on the porch next door. We’re about done – you’ll assess after we leave?”

“Yep, if you okay it.”Kurt ducked under Blaine’s helmet and kissed his cheek. “You went in again, didn’t you?”

“Just inside the entryway. How’d you kn-…?” And then he saw it – a perfectly round dot of ash on the center of Kurt’s nose. “C’mere, stud.” Blaine pulled off his work gloves and licked his thumb, wiping it off. “You’re making me lose my staid professionalism, Mr. Hummel. Maybe you should go speak with the family.”

“Maybe I should. See you at home?”

“Home.” Blaine wiggled his hand back into his glove and grinned, tipping his helmet as he headed back to the house to assess before shutting down. “I really like the sound of that.”

***

Flying with a five year old, Kurt learned, was an adventure in exhaustion he wasn’t sure he really could have ever imagined. There was the jabbering all the way to the Dayton Airport. And the jabbering from the car to check-in to security to boarding. And then the charming, wooing and nauseatingly enrapturing of the flight attendants by his incessant jabbering jabbering. Finally there was the take-off jabbering – _oh my goodness that was so much fun; when can we do it again? –_ and the in-the-air jabbering – _Kurt! Daddy! Look! It was cloudy and now we’re in sunshine. It’s like magic! –_ and of course, the landing jabbering – _my ears are popping even though I have gum. I think I need more gum. I don’t like landing at all. Are we on the grou-OH! I guess we landed. Well, that’s good because I don’t like the landing part so much._ And, as they pulled up to Kenmare Square, the jabbering stopped because now. Now that they had to go inside, carry in their luggage and basically _function,_ the little shit was sound asleep.

He was asleep until it was time to charm, woo and enrapture the receptionist, at which point he bolted up out of Kurt’s arms and put on his best five year old gallantry.

“You know, I think I might be able to tolerate the Umpire State Building lines if we had a promise that we could leave him there and no one would arrest us.”

“Hey now. He’s our free ticket onto Santa’s lap.”

Kurt hiked Adrian back up onto his hip and side-eyed Blaine as they stepped into the elevator. “There is so much wrong with what you just said, I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’ve lost your inner child, Kurt. And during the holidays. I’m very disappointed.”

“I don’t need an inner child. Seems I have an outer child right here, currently falling back to sleep and drooling on my Louis Vuitton overcoat.”

“Merry Christmas!” Blaine cheesed a grin and kissed Kurt’s cheek, taking his hand and walking them to their apartment for the next five days.

And really, the next five days were pretty spectacular. They took Adrian to the Holiday Windows Walk where he did jabber incessantly, but it was with such color and imagination and excitement that only Scrooge would protest. Adrian was even sufficiently proud of the fact that while Kurt hadn’t worked on the Barney’s windows _this_ year because he lived in Ohio, he had helped them out in the past and promised to show Adrian pictures when they got back home.

They went to Rockefeller Center to see the tree and Adrian, unexpectedly, became enamored with the ice skaters, so the next day after Kurt’s meetings at Jacobs, they went to Willman Rink in Central Park and strapped on their own ice skates to, as Kurt propheted, show-em-how-it’s-done. Only, Kurt was the only one who really knew how to ice skate and it was more a comedy show than a competition, but they had fun anyway. And, the hot chocolate at Kurt’s favorite West Village coffee shop made all the hip bruises feel much better.

The third day was a special one because they went to the New York City Fire Museum where members of the Fire Department of New York rescued Santa from the roof and then they all enjoyed a party with him. Kurt thought that Adrian might, if given one more cookie, become the first exploding child simply from the combination of sugar and joy. And, when he got to tell Santa that _his_ daddy was a fireman? Better yet, the Chief? Well. His hair almost straightened.

That evening, they had tickets to see _Lion King_ , so they ventured out to Times Square early to grab a quick bite and let the kid soak up some real tourist night life. They sat on the ruby stairs, close to where Kurt and Blaine sat only a few months before, and let him dance around, then sit to contemplate life’s larger questions and then dance around some more, hopefully getting all the jumpiness out of him before the show.

When it seems he had jumped around for his final round, he snuggled between Kurt and Blaine and sighed a very adult sigh, looking up and out and about. And then his body stiffened and he tugged on both of their coat sleeves. “Daddy? Kurt? Is…oh my goodness.”

“What’s up, buddy?” Blaine reached around and pulled both of them closer to warm up.

“It was a sunny day, right?”

“Yes. It’s supposed to be pretty our whole trip, why?”

“Well. Hrm.” He pointed up to the black sky and sighed. “I just…Kurt? Are there stars in New York? Because…I don’t see any.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Kurt looked to Blaine for a little support and it appeared it was only going to come in the form of a faint smile. “Look back down at the street.”

Adrian did and huffed. “So?”

“See all these lights? This whole city lights up like this. All night long. It’s never dark down here. Maybe in small pockets but because there’s so much light down here, it sort of drowns out the light the stars give.”

Adrian pursed his lips and thought about that for a few moments, looking up at the sky and then back down, squeezing his eyes tight and trying the sky again, only to huff and try it again. “You know, Kurt. I’m not so sure I like New York City so much after all.”

“The stars are still there, Ade. They are. Mommy’s star and Lizzie’s star. Burt’s star. They’re there. We just can’t see them here, that’s all.”

“Well. I don’t like that. And I’m ready to go inside now so I don’t have to think about it anymore.”

And so they left the stairs and went to the theater and in short order, Adrian forgot all about the stars and the lights outside and everything in the entire world except the beautiful magic happening right in front of him. In fact, Kurt wondered more than once, if both he and Blaine had forgotten how to breathe they were so enamored and swirled up in the pageantry and beauty of _The Lion King_. As he tucked Adrian in for the night, finally exhausted after 14 rehashes of his favorite parts – which amounted to the entire show – Kurt had an idea.

“Change of plans for tomorrow night, do you mind?” Kurt stepped into the space between Blaine and the counter, interrupting a very serious pre-bedtime wine pouring and swung him around the apartment in a lazy dance as they spoke.

“I don’t mind at all. What’s the plan, Beautiful?”

“We’re going to the stars.”

***

After their string of daytime activities, the trio made their way uptown to Columbia University and the Pupin Physics Laboratory where they periodically held public stargazing events, allowing average people to use their well beyond average equipment to see the great beyond. Or, in this case, the stars. They had to sit through a short lecture and Adrian was the youngest person there, giving the students and employees staffing the event a bit of unnecessary agita, but once he got to a telescope, a _monster sized telescope, oh my goodness!,_ he followed every direction and got his first peek.

And then all the jabbering. All the yakking. All the explanations and rehashing and questioning and noisy Adrian-ness that had littered their stay was gone. With one huge gasp of air, Adrian no longer had any words to say because now.

He could see the stars.

Millions upon millions of stars. Bright stars and dull stars. Steady shiners and flickering beams. So many stars that the constellations became almost impossible to pick out even though he was still new to those. Kurt and Blaine waited their turns on neighboring telescopes and when all three of them were looking at the same time, Adrian’s wonder turned to his stars. Their stars.

“How can I even _find_ Mommy’s now?”

“You can…you’ll know her star above all the others.”

And so he decided. And then he found Lizzie and Burt’s and he was done. He was happy.

“You were right, Kurt. They’re there even when we can’t see them!”

“All the time, buddy. Anywhere you go. Any time of day.”

And that night, when Kurt and Blaine tucked him in, Adrian asked again for what he now called _his poem._ His laughing stars poem.

_Quand tu regarderas le ciel, la nuit, puisque j’habiterai dans l’une d’elles, puisque je rirai dans l’une d’elles, alors ce sera pour toi comme si riaient toutes les étoiles._

“I changed my mind about New York City. I think it’s pretty magical.”

As he snuggled deeper into his bed, Kurt and Blaine exchanged a glance, sweet but tinged with worry. They’d decided not to tell him yet that Kurt will leave. That they might go with him. Or that they might not. Because they hadn’t decided. Because they were having a hard enough time coming to terms with it all. Because Kurt wanted to give them all the space necessary to think. And to plan. And to calculate and to fact the situation into submission.

Because right now? They had this. And this was pretty impossibly perfect.

“ _Je t’aime_ , Kurt. _Je t’aime_ , Daddy.”

“ _Je t’aime_ , Adrian.”


	32. Chapter Thirty One

It was mid-January and the flotsam of Christmas had finally been put away, leaving only the drudgery of an Ohio winter to propel life forward. It was an easy winter as far as winters go, few fires, fewer snow days (much to Adrian’s chagrin) and a nice ease in Kurt’s team’s preparations for fashion week – which was a month away. And a few weeks after that, he’d be in New York. Permanently.

Unless…

Blaine found Kurt hunched at his rickety kitchen table surrounded by crumpled up paper, a legal pad, a disgusting pile of used tea bags and his tablet. He’d been there since dinner and it was only a repeat of last night’s activity where Kurt cooked, Blaine cleaned up, Adrian played and then Kurt disappeared into this hole that neither he nor Adrian could penetrate. But, that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Baby, this is the second day you’ve been doing…this.” Blaine tossed a crumpled ball of paper into the trash. “What’s up?”

Kurt finally looked up, his hair scattered and un-styled, his eyes sunken with worry. “You know, I’m sorry.” He turned his tablet off and knocked back the last drops of now-cold tea. “I should be doing this at home. I just…like the drone of you two behind me.”

“We drone?”

“When I’m concentrating, that’s what it amounts to. I’ll head home.”

“No. You’re not bothering anyone. I’m just worried about you. What are you researching?”

“I’m looking for work in Ohio.”

“But, you said…”

“I know. I said. But I have to try. To look. Blaine, Christmas was…perfect. It could have been the most depressing shit storm I’ve ever experienced since Mom died, but…it was perfect. Because I was with you. I drive through this stupid town to pick up groceries or go to the offices and it feels like home again. Because of you. I go to New York and it sucks. Unless you’re there with me, I hate it there. I feel like I was afraid I would when I first went to college – lost and sucked up by its size and so incredibly lonely.”

“It probably doesn’t help that just about every time you’ve been there without me, we’re not talking or you’re vomiting.”

“Thank you. I’m sure that adds to the distaste in my mouth.” Kurt finally allowed himself to smile, reaching out for Blaine’s hand. “I just want to be with you. So, I have to try. And, I can’t ask so much of you if I’m not willing to put myself on the line too – if I’m not willing to at least look at all of the options out there. I mean, I’ve seen you pouring over the hiring process with the FDNY. I’ve seen the prices of houses, even outside of Manhattan, and I’ve heard your phone calls with Sharon. I can’t put those kind of demands on you without looking at the options from my end, too.”

“So, what are you finding?”

“Little. It’s all in Columbus unless I want to teach part time in Cincinnati.”

“Those are still more than a commute away.”

“I know. Maybe I could do weekends in Lima? Or we could live half way? Although the idea of living in Bellefontaine or Marysville doesn’t really thrill me either. All I know is it sounds better than weekend commutes from New York.”

“What kind of compromise will it be to your career?”

“If I get this one I just sent a resume for, not much – which really surprises me. Wexner’s Express is still here – I thought he moved everything to New York.”

“Do you want to leave Jacobs?”

“No. Do you want to leave Lima?”

“Undetermined.”

“Oh?”

“We’re talking about you right now…except that I need to say that I haven’t shut any doors about moving. So, please don’t sit here and stew over this stuff by yourself, okay? I appreciate what you’re doing though.”

“I have to at least try…”

Blaine got up from the table and knelt in front of Kurt, never letting go of his hands. “This is going to work out.”

“You say that like you know it.”

“I feel it. And right now, that’s going to have to be enough.”

Kurt leaned forward for a soft kiss, resting his forehead on Blaine’s with a sigh. “Hot chocolate and movies night?”

Blaine nodded and kissed Kurt’s knuckles. “I’ll go get the boy.”

***

Two weeks later, Kurt made his way over to Blaine’s after a fire in Monroe Township where Dot had spent the entire journey there and back tormenting him about potentially taking her perfect fire chief from her. Because apparently she owned him.

“…get a good one and now you’ve stolen his heart. What if his replacement is a shithead like Chief Tomlinson was?”

“Um? I don’t know? Because with all due respect, I’ll be in New York. And really…we just don’t know yet.”

Dot pulled up to a four-way stop in the middle of Bum Fuck Allen County and took Kurt’s hand. “You know I’m just being difficult…”

“It’s your specialty.”

“I want you happy. And I really like Chief Anderson. I just don’t want to lose either of you.”

“I know, Dot. And if things work out with Express, you might not.”

“Do you _want_ to stay in Ohio?”

“I want to be with Blaine. In Siberia if necessary. Although, in light of how fucking cold it is today, I might have to re-evaluate that. I’m not sure even he could keep me warm enough.”

“Is it smart to put your heart before your career?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think my dad would have ever said that he wishes he would have expanded his chain to Columbus and Cincinnati if it had meant spending less time with Carole. He could have done that. And he would have made a lot more money. But, he wanted her. So he stayed local.”

“And he died a very happy man.”

“He did.”

“Is it okay if I still root for the Ohio angle?”

“Yes. Just so you’re still happy for me if I end up in New York. And that you’ll promise to come visit me.”

“Take me to a show?”

“And dinner.”

“Blow up the air mattress. I’m there.”

So, he got to Blaine’s and the boys were…strange. Well, stranger than usual. Skittish? Adrian was on high voltage, dancing and flitting around like a lunatic and Blaine was just unsettled. Kurt made himself some tea and tried to get them to play a game, but they weren’t having it. He finally gave up and decided to go upstairs to bathe off the smoke smell that lingered in his hair.

“WAIT! Don’t, um. Don’t. Here. Have…could you?…”

Kurt turned to the blathering Blaine and had no words to respond. Although, he did stop, so somehow, blathering was mildly successful. “Blaine?”

“Sit. Down. Um, please? Here.” Blaine took Kurt’s elbow and sat him on a stair step as he eased himself down a few steps lower. Adrian sat on Kurt’s feet, which couldn’t be comfortable since he still had his chunky steel-toed boots on from the fire. But there he sat.

“Blaine…are you okay?”

“Fine. Really. Right, Ade? We’re good.”

“Good. Number one, Kurt. Dad, really. Just…do your speech. Thing.”

“What are you two up to?”

“Here’s the thing. Kurt.” Blaine traced the seam line of Kurt’s sweats with a finger, up from the ankle all the way to his knee and thigh, starting over again before he reached his ass. It would have tickled had the whole scenario not been so incredibly bizarre. “Ade and I, we’ve been talking. As you know. And thinking. And planning. And, I know you have too.”

“Yes…”

“Well. We’ve come to a decision.” Adrian hopped up and started to jump on the landing of the steps, bounding down to the floor with a somersault. And then Blaine sighed. “He knows I won’t punish him right now.”

“I don’t know why you won’t let him jump, but we’ve been over that a million times. You were saying?”

“Adrian, get up here, dude. This is a you and me thing, remember?”

“Oh my goodness. I thought you were going to talk all night, so I…” Seeing the stern look on his dad’s face, he jumped up the two stairs to the landing and leaned on his dad’s legs. “I’m here. Go.”

Kurt looked at Blaine expectantly, trying to ignore the bouncing Adrian because…well, Blaine was starting to creep him out a little. “Blaine?…”

“Yes. We’ve come to a decision. About New York.”

And the thrumming energy in the room ratcheted up so high, it felt like it stopped. “Okay?”

“We want to come with you. We’re ready to move. On one condition.”

Kurt’s eyebrows disappeared under his drooping bangs. “And what happens if I don’t agree to your condition?” Sure, he was just taking advantage of Blaine’s nervous energy. Because it was fun. And because, well. What _if_ he wouldn’t agree? But mostly, because unnerving the nervous ball of nerves was oddly enjoyable.

“Oh. Well…” Blaine looked down to Adrian who simply shrugged.

“No worries. He’s going to agree. Just talk, Daddy.”

“Right.” Blaine looked back up to Kurt and took his hands in his, soaking him in for just a moment. Soaking in the last…had it only been six months? Yes, last six months. And the fact that in six months’ time, his life had dashed off into a trajectory that he could have never imagined for himself. He could have never even dreamt it for himself. But here it was. Here _Kurt_ was, spent from working a fire, but gloriously beautiful and graceful and elegant and ravishing as ever. Waiting patiently for him to find his nerve and just. Freaking. Say. It. “We’ll come to New York with you…if you’ll agree to be my husband.”

Adrian took a flying leap off the landing again, rolling and jumping and shouting and whooping and hollering and it went completely unnoticed by the two men, breathless on the stairs.

“Blaine!” It was all he could say.

“It’s not an ultimatum. Not really, please know that. It’s just…I know what we have is real. And strong. And true. But, we’re asking each other to uproot _every_ thing. And the truth of the matter is, I’d uproot more than everything if I had it just to be with you.”

“Blaine…”

“But, I don’t have more than everything. I just have this simple life to offer you. So, if I’m going to uproot it for you…for him…for us…I need to know we share the same promise.”

“Blaine…”

“So. Will you be my husband? And make me the happiest man alive?”

“YES!”

Blaine vaulted up the few steps and landed straddling Kurt’s lap, holding his face in his hands and before kissing him, made sure. “Say it again.”

“Yes, Blaine Anderson. I would be honored to be your husband.”

As their lips finally met, hard and grasping, clinging to the promise they just made, Adrian, as only a five year old boy can, lost his shit. He whooped and hollered louder than before, telling anyone within hearing distance and beyond that his daddy was getting married. That he was moving to New York. That Kurt and Blaine were sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Which sent Kurt and Blaine on a giggle fit that settled into silence, only broken by the soft smacking of their gentle kisses in between gazes of reassurance while Adrian plopped himself on the floor below, elbows on his knees, watching them like a nickelodeon movie.

After one final soft kiss, Blaine slipped off Kurt’s lap and looked down to his son with a smile. “Ade. You’re on. Go.”

“Oh my goodness! I got too excited. Kurt, don’t move.” He bounded up the stairs and was blocked by the love birds. “Except, okay move, so I can…” They parted, Blaine smacking his bottom on the way by. “Thank you. Don’t move now.”

When he disappeared, Kurt brushed his knuckles against Blaine’s cheek. Amazed. Awed. Overwhelmed. “You’re going to lose your rank.”

“All the way to the beginning – I’ll just be a fireman, but…”

“…and you’re okay with that?”

“Kurt, I’ve been miserable as chief. I was assured this wasn’t a desk only job. That I’d be fighting fires too, but I’m not unless I break protocol…which as you know, I do frequently because I can’t stand idly by while there’s a fire raging. And when I’m at the station, it is a desk job. And I hate it. I’m not paper pusher. I’m not one to stand and watch other men do the job. I’m a firefighter.”

“You’re a good chief, though. You’ve already done amazing things for this city.”

“Thank you, but I’m a better fireman. And, they said I’d move up to lieutenant pretty quickly – possibly after my probationary period.”

“You’ve been hired?”

“I have to take the tests yet, so it will take about four months, but yes. They’re starting me at five years service instead of taking away all my tenure, too.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“I got phone numbers at the Santa rescue at Christmas…” Blaine blushed because that certainly didn’t go along with their we’ll-talk-about-everything plan, but he wanted as much information as possible. And the surprise factor was pretty awesome.

“What if I get the job in Columbus?”

“Knowing what you know now, where would you rather be?”

“In New York. With you.”

Blaine smiled knowingly. “I appreciate that you looked. That you were willing to go that route so we could be together here, but Kurt. Your home is New York.”

“My home is with you two.”

“Then we’ll move our home to New York. I’ve never been married to the idea of living and dying in Ohio. It was just my only option.”

“What if I said I wanted to stay?”

“One, you’d be lying and two, I’d still want to be your husband, so that’s…you know…still on the table either way.”

“My husband.” Kurt swirled the sound of it around his mouth, listening to the consonants echo ever-so-slightly in the stairwell. “My husband. Myyyy husband. My _hus_ band. I like it.”

“I do too. I especially like _my husband, Kurt_.”

“It does have a nice ring, doesn’t it?”

They shared another kiss, Kurt almost losing his balance as he bent down to him. “Oh! Oh my god, what about Maggie’s parents? Your parents?”

“To quote Sharon, _They invented air travel a long time ago. You need to go be with Kurt. Hell, maybe we’ll move to Long Island and drive you all crazy.”_

“Is she serious? They’d move?”

“Without us, they don’t have anything else in Ohio anyway…who knows? I don’t see it happening soon, but we’ll be okay. We’ll just have to find a new support system, that’s all.”

“And your parents?”

“I’ll send them a wedding invitation. Maybe.”

“Blaine.”

Blaine lifted his shoulders in an unworried shrug and Adrian arrived from his secret mission upstairs.

“Okay, Daddy. Here.” He plopped a velvet navy blue bag into his dad’s hands and grinned at Kurt. “You thought we were done, didn’t ya?”

“I should have known better.”

Blaine bounced the bag in his hand, feeling the weight of it. Of what they were doing. Of the memories inside and the promised memories yet to come. “This has a story.”

“I love your stories.”

With his eyes on the palm of his hand, Blaine dumped the contents of the bag and closed his fingers around it. “This was Maggie’s.”

“Oh, Blaine.”

“Story. Shush.” He unfurled his fingers and lifted his hand to Kurt to show him a man’s ring. It was either a faded yellow silver or a silver ring, unsure because of the age and condition of the ring – old and worn and lived-in, a little dinged up even. “It’s sort of beat up because we found it at the Maumee Antique Mall and she fell in love with it. We really don’t know how old it is. _Three diamonds for the three of us_ she said. She went back and looked at that thing ten times that day. You’ve seen pictures – she loved big chunky rings so for her, this was dainty.”

Kurt wanted to speak, but he couldn’t find words. Even Adrian was quiet, occasionally reaching out to brush his finger over the ring, slipping a finger in and out of it and tentatively dropping his hand away. After quick kisses to each of his boys, Blaine continued.

“At the end of the day, she’d gotten caught up in a bidding war with some guy on a dress, so I snuck off and bought it for her. A month later, she metastasized. But, she wore it on her thumb until it was too big and then she put it on a chain. About a week before she died…” Blaine voice cracked and he stopped, tears pooling at the base of his eyes, his breath ragged as he tried to pull himself together.

"It’s okay, Daddy…you know she’s okay with this."

"I do, buddy. I do. Some days I just really miss her." With a deep breath and a smile, resting in Kurt’s patient gaze, he continued. "A week before she died, she told me I had three choices with the ring, none of which included keeping it on her. I could keep it myself – wear it, store it. I could give it to Adrian when he was big enough, or I could fall in love with the most amazing man made just for me and make a new trio.”

“She voted for the last one, Kurt.” Adrian picked up the ring and slipped it on his own thumb, carefully spinning it around.

“She did, huh?”

“She did. I figured I’d shoot for saving it for Adrian. I had pretty much settled with the idea that I’d be alone. And then, you showed up. And you know, we’ve become a pretty awesome trio.” He plucked the ring from Adrian’s finger and kissed it. “So, we can go find something newer, if you want but for now, I’d love it if you’d wear this?”

Kurt lifted a shaky hand and Blaine slid the ring onto his left ring finger as Adrian watched, eyes gaping as though he was waiting for magic to happen. And maybe it did. It fit perfectly.

Adrian cheered.

Blaine cried.

Kurt cried.

And after sniffles and glances at it again and more sniffles and sleeve wipes of snot and Adrian laughing at the grown-ups being gross and childish, Kurt found his voice. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. Both of you. We have to go find a ring for you, too.”

“Soon.”

“Tomorrow. I want everyone to know.”

“Okay. Tomorrow.” Blaine lifted himself up one step and took Kurt’s hands in his, feeling, like he always did when Kurt’s hands were intertwined with his. Grounded. Sure. Focused and true. “So. Kurt Hummel. Just like a few times before. This is where I want to kiss you. _Really_ kiss you.”

“Oh. Well. Blaine Anderson. This is where I say yes. Always…yes.”


	33. Epilogue

“Kurt! Oh my goodness! Kurt, come see! It works!!”

Kurt peeled himself away from his tablet, completely immersed in cost calculations for the next collection on his docket. While he’d saved the work for home to avoid the incessant interruptions at the office, this interruption was a welcome one. It came with no demands. No expectations. Just pure six-year-old joy.

He got to Adrian’s room and cracked the door open, not wanting to let in too much light to ruin the effect of what had caused the shouts of glee bouncing through their apartment. “Does it? Is it clear?”

“It’s clear. Come in quick!” Kurt slipped in and shut the door behind him, laughing as Adrian took a flying leap onto his bed in the dark room, a black silhouette shooting through the air. “Come with me. It looks best here.”

Kurt crawled onto Adrian’s _oh my goodness it’s so BIG_ brand new bed and snuggled in close, looking up to the ceiling with a pleased gasp. “Ade! It looks great! Almost real!”

“I know! You said it would and it does. Wait ‘til Daddy sees this.”

_This_ was a specially painted ceiling just for Adrian. For his new bedroom. For his sixth birthday. For being an awesome stargazer and mostly for being Adrian. Kurt had found it online during his two and a half months alone in New York, what was now called _The Longest Two And a Half Months in the Life of Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson’s Fantastically Gorgeous Husband_.

This ceiling treatment was one of the few things he found online that was of any worth during their separation. Kurt’s online shopping had gotten so out-of-hand that Blaine had begun teasing him about turning into a 2024 version of the old ladies who would stay up all night to watch shopping channels, puffing away on their five pack-a-day minimum. “You’re going to fill our apartment with [CRapodimonte](http://www.capodimonteusa.com/Scripts/default.asp) figurines and candle sticks aren’t you? There won’t even be room for my toothbrush.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what’s going to happen. Because I have _that_ much bad taste in interior design, Blaine. Look, this ceiling treatment is amazing. It’s done with luminescent paint and the stars they paint are small – like you’d really see in the sky. Not those big tacky glow-in-the-dark stick-ons you see everywhere.”

“He’s five. He can’t have tacky glow-in-the-dark stick-ons?”

“Not as long as I’m paying rent, no.”

“Oh, rude.”

They’d also taken to Skyping nightly, if at all possible, and this particular conversation was running a little later than usual – they were getting punchy. “Pft, quit whining, seriously. Have you looked at the link I sent you? He will flip his shit. During the day, it looks like a normal ceiling and it sort of charges. Then at night – and I got those room darkening shades, so it’ll be perfect – the ceiling lights up like the night sky. It’s not so light he won’t be able to sleep, but he’ll have the stars over him every night.”

“You’re impossible.”

“If by impossible you mean brilliant, then yes.”

“Will the landlord let us do this?”

Which he obviously did because it was now three weeks later and _The Longest Two And a Half Months in the Life of Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson’s Fantastically Gorgeous Husband_ was officially over and Adrian’s ceiling was a lovely replica of the night sky. There were bright stars and faded stars and it even flickered if the air conditioning caught the corner of his shades allowing a little light into the room. It was perfect.

“So, we have-ta pick out Mommy’s and Lizzie’s and Burt’s.”

“Of course – you find them. You have a better eye for that than I do.”

Adrian scoped out the ceiling, deciding on a trio of stars close to the opposing wall on their left. “Here, give me your hand.” Adrian lifted their hands and closed one eye aiming their pointed fingers at just the right ones. “There. See ‘em?”

“I do. I think those are the right ones, Ade.”

“Me too.” Adrian sighed, contented and, dare he say, sleepy. He slipped his hand in Kurt’s bringing them close to his face to see in the darkened room. “I like your wedding rings, Kurt. They look just like Mommy’s, but…better.”

“Know what I like about them?”

“What?”

“That the gold and diamonds from hers helped make these, so hers is still here.”

“That’s why the diamonds shine so bright.”

“Yep. Just like the stars.”

“Yeah…”

They rested there together on Adrian’s _oh my goodness it’s so BIG_ bed for a long while, Kurt beginning to wonder if Adrian had drifted off to sleep. But then, “Kurt? How much longer ‘til you’ll really be my daddy?”

Kurt had the number of days memorized. His excitement for the drop of that gavel was seconded only to the excitement that lead up to the day he and Blaine became Mister and Mister. “Get your calendar, buddy. Have you been marking the days?”

“Yep!” Adrian hopped off the bed and flipped on his light. “Goodbye stars…” They watched the ceiling fade a little, not quite disappearing yet, as Kurt’s memory flooded back to the days of asking his dad where _his_ calendar was.

This kind of calendar counting, and all that had preceded it – the count to Kurt’s move, the count to their wedding day, the count to the closing of Blaine’s house and their subsequent move to the Big City, the count to Adrian’s birthday and now, the count until they became a real, legal, signed-sealed-and-delivered family – was so much more pleasant.

It would have made his dad so incredibly proud and Kurt was filled with the glow of it.

“Okay, today’s Monday June 10th right? And, we go to the wedding place on Tuesday June 25th, so…” Adrian started counting but when he ended at 15, he huffed. “Oh my goodness. That’s too many days away.”

“Yeah, but look at all the days you’ve been counting.” Kurt flipped the calendar back one, two, three months as Ade’s eyes got bigger, realizing how many days he _had_ been counting. “Oh my goodness! I guess 15 isn’t so bad!”

“Nope. Soon, sweetie.”

“So, I’ve been thinking…what am I supposed to call you?”

“You can still call me Kurt, if you want…”

“I don’t want. You’ll be my daddy. But, _Daddy_ will be confusing.”

“It will. Hrm…I got called a lot of names in school, but we probably shouldn’t go with those.”

"What names did they call you in school?"

"Don’t worry about it…they’re ugly and I don’t ever want to hear you say them anyway."

"Oh." Adrian’s frown at someone saying ugly things to his almost-daddy Kurt turned into an ornery grin and he giggled at himself. “I could call you Boogerhead.”

Kurt sat up and gaped, his eyes dancing. “Oh is that how this is going to go? Okay, well…I think you should call me Stinky Butt instead.”

“Oooh, that’s a good one. ‘Cept you always smell yummy. How about oh! Grandma A calls me Sugar Britches. You could be that.”

Kurt immediately imagined a drag queen, reeling that thought in before his laughter turned entirely too inappropriate. “That’s your name from Grandma though. Okay, I have it. I had a friend in college call me Kurtsie Pie.”

Adrian laughed so hard he almost fell off the bed. Kurt grabbed his ankle just in time, turning the whole event into a tickle fest, each of them calling each other any ridiculous playground name they could come up with. They hit a creative wall when Adrian came up with _Poop Butt Fart Turd._ Adrian wiggled out from under Kurt’s tickly fingers and flipped the light off, their giggles dying down as they snuggled in to watch the stars become visible again.

“How do you say _daddy_ in French?”

“Papa.”

“Papa. I like that one.” They rested silently together, Kurt hearing the faint whisper of Adrian rolling the word around in his mouth, warming at his sweet intensity. “Can I call you Papa?”

Kurt took in a deep shuddering breath, sighing it out as he pulled Adrian in close. He kissed his forehead, never tiring of the tickle under his nose of Ade’s soft loopy curls. “I think that would be lovely.”

“Papa. Daddy and Papa. It feels good to say.” And then, “Can I call you Papa now? Or do I have to wait?”

“If you want to call me Papa now, that’s what I’ll answer to.”

“Good. Papa. But if you make me eat lima beans or something, I’m calling you Booger Head.”

“Deal. Lima beans are gross.”

***

After getting Adrian tucked in, Kurt settled onto the couch, taking a look out the wall-to-wall windows of their corner living room, a virtual wrap-around theater to New York City’s skyline. He’d been back in the city three months already and remained amazed that they scored this apartment, 33rd of 37 floors right on the edge of Chelsea, central to everything they loved. Their apartments towered over surrounding buildings giving them a view was hard to beat, overlooking so many of his favorite parts of the city. And as he had told Blaine on their first trip, at night, New York was at her best. This night was especially clear and beautiful – early summer tranquility.

Just as he refocused on his book, Blaine stepped in from work, dressed in an unseen-before-now station uniform. His hair was rumpled and his eyes were tired, but he was still, just as the first day they met, the most beautiful man Kurt had ever laid his eyes on. He carried a shiny new garment bag, heavy with what was most likely his dress uniform, his hat strapped to the hanger. It was all becoming real; Blaine was a New York City Firefighter.

“Hey, Gorgeous. You have new duds.”

“I do.” Blaine hung up the bag and toed off his shoes, coming to slot into the couch behind Kurt, stealing a soft kiss as they settled. “Sorry I’m late. We got to talking…”

“Mmm…You went on a run. I thought this was just a meet and greet.”

Blaine chuckled into Kurt’s neck. “I forget I leave a sensory trail. I rode along, yes.”

“And went inside, I take it?” Kurt took a deep breath, his initial distaste for the sweet home fire smell now one of his most favorite scents. For so many, it triggered tragedy and despair, but for Kurt, it was home, comfort, security. Blaine.

“Actually, went up. High rise, 31st floor.”

“That’s a lot of hose to carry.”

“We canned it. No hose this time.”

“Well, that’s not exciting. I can can a fire.”

“Yes, but can you can-can when you can a fire? Because that, my sexy man, is part of my entrance test. Of which I’ll pass with flying colors.”

“You are such an idiot.” Kurt chuckled and tugged on Blaine’s shirt. “Show me your shirt. Where’d they assign you?” He craned his neck back to read as Blaine flexed ridiculously. “Engine 54. The Pride of Midtown. OH! Baby! I was sure they’d ship you up to the Bronx.”

“I was too. I’m up on 48th & 8th – or I’m sorry _fawty eight ‘n eight._ Apparently, I don’t speak correctly.”

Kurt laughed at his affected New York accent and curled back in to snuggle. “My poor baby – are they making fun of you already?”

“Oh hell yes. I’m going to get ribbed for a long damned time. Between not being a New Yorker and coming here following a _man_? Jesus. I might as well have written the script for them.”

“You can take it.”

“I can. I know we all have each other’s backs. You know what I realized when we were out, though?”

“What’s that?”

“I’m really going to miss that stupid red vest…and the man in it.”

“You’re married to the man in it.”

"Yes, dear. I just didn’t realize how much I looked forward to seeing you on the scene. This group even wears that gawd-awful neon yellow-green instead of red, so…”

“I could have Dot send me one and wear it for some weird role playing fun. Hey baby, come whip out your hose and put out my fire.”

“Oh, let’s not do that. Besides, now I can finally tell you; it really never matched your skin tone.”

“Rude.”

“Must not have been too bad…it got you a couple hot dates.”

“That it did.” Kurt stood and stretched, mocking embarrassment when his robe slipped open, quickly shirring it shut with the sash, until Blaine snatched it open again and got his hand lightly smacked.

“Awww…”

“Later. I want to show you something.” Kurt took Blaine’s hands and lead him towards Adrian’s room laughing when Blaine pointed out that their room was the other direction. “We’ll get there – this first. We had visitors today. Adrian’s very upset he couldn’t stay up to show you himself.”

Kurt quietly opened the door, pushing Blaine in as he slid in behind, closing the door quietly. Blaine gasped at the sight before him, whispering in hushed tones as to not wake the lord of the space. “Oh my god – did he completely freak out?”

“Pretty much…isn’t it great?”

“I owe you an apology. I really, really thought this might be your first hair brained idea.”

“Hah. I will prove to you that fatherhood can be done without hair brained ideas.”

“We shall see…it’s not even official yet, so don’t go getting all cocky on me.”

Blaine spent a few moments soaking in a sleeping Adrian as Kurt closed up the apartment, meeting in their bedroom where another wrap-around view awaited them. Blaine had only been there for a couple of weeks, but this time of day was his favorite, watching Kurt night after night, gracefully maneuvering his way through his routine, the lights glowing and disappearing with his every move; he was radiant. The city was radiant. They truly were meant to be together, Kurt and this city.

Kurt began to pull the bed down as Blaine changed into something more comfortable, less smoke-scented. “So. He decided to call me Papa.”

“Oh?”

"Yeah. I said it was okay." Kurt sat on the edge of the bed fiddling with his robe’s sash, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. "Can I do this, Blaine? Can I _be_ a Papa?”

Blaine snapped the waistband of his lounge pants and went to Kurt, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone meeting Kurt’s nervous eyes with what he hoped were assurances beyond what his words would offer. “You’ve been his papa since the first night you watched him.”

"Oh, I have not. I had no idea what I was doing."

"We’ve covered this. It goes with the territory." Kurt sighed and stood to busy himself, but Blaine took hold of his wrist and pulled him in for a tender kiss. "Listen to me. You _healed_ him, Kurt. You took his frayed little heart and stitched it together again. Do you know he _never_ gave me bedtime grief after that night? He wasn’t afraid of his dreams anymore.”

"Until he fell into a fried egg."

"Oh, and when he turned into a yellow Play-Doh starfish."

They chuckled at the memory of that night, Adrian scared out of his mind, no one able to laugh it away like they could with the fried egg dream. They never figured out what the dream was about or what in his waking life had scared him so that it would come out in his sleep, but it had effected Adrian. Enough so that every time they made Play Doh – and that was quite frequently because Adrian needed a full arsenal of colors – yellow was not allowed. Even if it was to make something yellow like the center of a flower, or a banana, or Spongebob. _Bananas can be green too, Kurt._

Of course they could.

Kurt went to the window to breathe again, his life and expectations inside the apartment feeling more overwhelming than the chaos of the city below. Not that he didn’t welcome it because he did more than anything, but it was overwhelming nonetheless. “Sometimes it feels like too much. There’s so much love here. So much good. I just worry I can’t keep up.”

"Your dad believed you could."

"Are you going to finally tell me what you two talked about?"

"Maybe…"

"Please tell me. I want to hold onto every word he ever said."

So Blaine told him. About Lizzie resting in him. About how he shines best when he’s caring for others. About the world missing that most precious part of him, but how Blaine saw it from the start. And about that truth being the only thing Burt was concerned about – that Blaine _got_ his son. That he believed in him. In the best of him.

"He said you have an angel inside of you, that you’re an angel in a man’s body."

"But, I don’t believe in angels, Blaine."

"I believe in _you._ _My_ angel…” Blaine brushed Kurt’s cheek with the back of his knuckles and kissed the corner of his mouth, even as Kurt rolled his eyes at his ridiculousness. “..in a Vuitton overcoat strutting through New York City…” He slid his fingers through the lustrous silk of his sash, releasing its loose hold around Kurt’s waist. “My angel…in a red vest, caring for someone having the worst day of their life.” With a gentle nudge, Blaine slipped the robe off of Kurt’s pale shoulders, the whoosh of the dropping fabric the only sound in the room. “My angel…in nothing at all…just for me.”

"Blaine…" Kurt stepped into Blaine’s arms, sliding his hands up his bare back as they swayed to music only they could hear, Blaine planting soft kisses up the curve of his neck.

"What _do_ you believe in, Kurt?”

"Us. You and me. That this is how it’s supposed to be. All three of us."

“We’re all pretty good for each other, aren’t we?”

“We really are.”

Kurt kissed the tip of Blaine’s nose, taking his left hand, strong, dry, and calloused – so wonderfully familiar. They brought their palms up, illuminated by the city lights, resting there, the metal of their wedding rings clicking softly together as they intertwined their fingers. Kurt looked at the ring on his hand, still amazed at what a perfect representation it was of their intertwined lives – three diamonds, a lifetime of trios.

Kurt, Lizzie and Burt.

Blaine, Maggie and Adrian.

And now the newest trio being watched and loved by the trio in the stars. “So, do you think this city’s big enough for the three of us?”

“I don’t know.” Blaine curled their hands between them, kissing Kurt’s fingers on the way in, silent promises made with each press of his lips. “But I know I can’t wait to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this is the end of the main story, be on the look out for a couple accompanying pieces, and scenes from Adrian's point of view, Allegories from Adrian. You can find them on my tumblr account at dontbefanci.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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